Mass Effect: The Fires of War
by Elissa Theirin
Summary: The fires of war are stoked when an a rogue Spectre agent attacks a human colony, hell-bent on unleashing the Reapers, a race of sentient ships, onto the galaxy. Sole survivor Erika Shepard rises from a hardened survivor to beat the greatest threat to humanity. Part 1 of Erika Shepard's trilogy.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Shepard inhaled deeply, the acrid stench of burning nearly choking her. Crouching next to the source of the grey, ethereal coils floating lazily off the dying light of a torched house, she hesitantly peered around into the blackness verging on the edges of the faint orange glow of the fire. Her green eyes stared hard and long into the unfathomable depths she knew led to the wheat fields, and past them, home. Between her and her family was a thousand straight yards of flat land nestled into a valley of hills, a kill zone if any batarian snipers were close. But she had to try; she had remained in this exact spot for the past two hours since she had been separated from her parents and older brother, John. Her legs were cramping, her eyes strained from having to switch adjusting to accommodate the blazing fire and the perfect dark where the light couldn't reach. Her fingers had grown stiff from the cold winter night of Mindoir, and she was anxious to go. Every second she remained in her risky hiding spot, she felt the chill on her spine grow colder, more hairs on her nape prickle from the paranoiac sensations of watchful eyes and she was eager to spring away from here, to find the safety and familiarity of home, the squat and ugly grey prefab she shared with her parents and brother in which she didn't even have her own bedroom she had grown great fondness for ever since seeing her neighbours, the Coopers, gunned down one at a time.

Shepard flattened herself back against the low wall of the half-decimated prefab still ablaze, ignoring the screaming voice of caution in her mind against an unknown threat. Instead, she counted from the backwards, preparing to run back home. Once she reached zero, she bolted around the corner, a dull object striking her unsuspecting person. She sprawled on her back, a splitting pain splintering across her skull from her left temple. Gingerly, she probed the injured spot and saw through her blurred vision streaks of crimson on her pale fingers.

A gruff gravelly voice snarled indecipherable alien words, and the speaker came into view: a batarian. Shepard felt herself trying to squirm away from the four-eyed alien which doubled in her disorientated vision. In front of her face, she could see a metal rod with two prongs at the end, sparks of electricity dancing between the two. On the other end, she could make out the red speckles of her blood where she had been struck.

Another batarian appeared, his boot stomping down on her arm to stop her from crawling away. She cried out as the heavy boot crushed down cruelly on her arm, feeling the bone underneath straining under the weight, threatening to snap under further exertions of pressure. His lipless mouth twisted into a sadistic grin, baring his sharp teeth. He spoke to the other slaver in the alien language. Shepard wished she could understand what they were saying. It was better to know her fate than lay here in a limbo of anxiety. They finished speaking, and she was roughly dragged onto her knees, jabbing the electrified rod right between her shoulder blades. A guttural scream was ripped of her lips as she felt the skin burn as though it was on fire, the unbearable heat spreading all across her back. She slumped onto the ground, succumbing to the blots of black dancing on the peripheral vision edging forward.

~o0o~

The first sensation she felt as she was dragged back into consciousness was the friction of her legs being dragged over a hard surface, and two iron vices around her forearms. Cracking open her dry eyes, she saw herself being dragged across a grimy, metal floor set in a dimly lit corridor. Shepard hazarded a glance around, taking in loose panels and sparking wires. A batarian on either side were dragging her down the passageway with little care. She bit back a wince as her already battered legs were put through more abuse as the ground became uneven, her skin catching and bleeding on sharp, upturned corners of some of the floor panels.

The aliens dragging her began to talk in their strange, hissing tongue of their native planet. Shepard remained utterly still as one of the glanced to his companion, trying to maintain their ruse that she was still unconscious. She had no idea what they were saying but the one to her left let out a guttural coughing hiss she could only just recognise as a laugh.

Ahead, a door opened by a seam invisible before it parted, revealing behind it a small, dingy room with not one single piece of furniture, packed in with hollowed-eyed, scraped, cut and bruise colonists. Shepard was unceremoniously deposited into the room. She quickly righted herself and turned to her captors, but the door behind her had already closed. The colonists gave her an empty stare for just one second before their gaze returned to their feet. She could see already they had all given up, resigning themselves to the life of a slave. Shepard glanced at each of the faces displaying varying degrees of hopelessness until she fell on her brother's visage.

"John?" she asked in a tone of disbelief. She stared at him without blinking, as though afraid he would disappear.

His face rose slowly to meet her eyes, and she saw in his brown eyes the hopelessness, completely devoid of the usual passion, whether it was happiness, rage, amusement or love. It was all gone.

"Erika," he deadpanned, then he resumed watching his shoes like they were the most fascinating invention since mass relays.

She elbowed her way past the other colonists to her brother, crouching in front of him to encourage him to meet her eyes again.

"John, thank god. I was worried about you. Where are my mom and dad?" she asked, giving his arm a little shake when he didn't reply immediately.

"They were wrong. Bad. They fought back. They deserved what they got."

She flinched away at his words and the emotionless voice they were delivered in. "What are you talking about? Where are they?"

"Dead."

That one word rang out like a knell, hanging in the air with deafening volume. She felt herself slump back, her rear hitting her ankles._ Dead_, she thought blankly. _They're dead._

"Dead? Are you sure?" she asked, the stupid question sounding childish to her own ears. She couldn't believe it, though. She wouldn't. They weren't dead. They weren't.

"I watched as they put a bullet in either of their heads," he replied in monotone. She could hardly blame him for shutting down after all he had seen.

"John…I'm so sorry," she said lamely. She couldn't offer more adequate words. She needed words of support herself.

He looked at her, still nothing in his eyes. "What for?"

Shepard was confused by his behaviour. Even after all that had happened, his manner wasn't right.

"John, what happened to you?" she asked, placing a hand on his knee.

He gazed at her hand, shifting as though uncomfortable with the contact.

"I was wrong to run, to resist. Just as our mother and father were wrong to fight."

Shepard seized his shoulders, struggling against the urge to strike him across the face in hopes it would instil a modicum of sense into him. "You're wrong. We have to leave here."

He merely shook his head, stubbornly remaining where he sat cross-legged. She stared at him in disbelief, wondering if it was shock or Stockholm syndrome that was causing his odd behaviour.

"We have to get out of here. They're going to sell us as slaves!" she yelled. Shepard glanced around, seeking help from the dozens of unfamiliar faces and saw a lack of interest or empathy. They must all have heard here words, but didn't seem to care one iota.

"Don't any of you get it?" she yelled, her desperation turning her tone a high volume of anger. How could they all be so blind? "They're going to turn is into slaves!"

John looked up at her, a strange tinge of disapproval colouring his expression. "You shouldn't talk about the masters so. You should obey them, sister."

She rounded on him, a sob wrenching its way up her throat to hear her usual strong-willed brother speaking those words. "What did they do to you?"

"They made me obey. And they were right to do so."

"Made you obey…" she repeated, horrified. The words echoed in her mind, becoming an intangible force she could reach out and touch. And when she did, she recalled snippets of a news report she half-listened to a few years ago, about a new technology slavers used to 'domesticate' their prisoners, a small control chip implanted at the back of their neck, close to where a biotic amp is inserted. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand, angling her wrist to feel the skin at the nape. Her fingers lightly ghosted over a slight protrusion, but he snapped. John instantly rose to his feet, grabbed her offending arm in a death-grip, one arm just above her writ, the other below her elbow, each pulling a different way. Shepard gasped in pain and surprise at the sudden transformation. His expression seemed as calm as before, but there was danger in his eyes. Not hatred, or anger, but an unspoken threat that with even an ounce more of pressure and her arm would be snapped in half.

"Don't," was all he said, releasing his grip so suddenly she almost lost her footing. He sat back down placidly, resuming his stare of nothing at all. Shepard hazarded a glance and saw the lack of usual gawkers at such an exchange. They were all chipped, they had to be. And she soon would be unless she could leave.

She looked back down at her brother, and knew it was pointless. He wouldn't leave with the chip in his brain, and she couldn't even get close to touching it without having her arm broke. It broke her heart, but she realised she would have to leave without him.

She saw a pillar of light on the floor that grew in size as the door opened, and she knew it was her only opportunity to leave.

"I'm so sorry, John," she whispered, not daring to reach out and touch him in case he lashed out again. Even when they were younger, he never raised a hand to his annoying little sister. He persevered, tempering her tantrums with gentle affection. "I love you."

The batarians clapped manacles around her wrist and dragged her away, down a corridor splitting off from the one she had been dragged down previously, making her stumble as she struggled to keep up with their brisk pace. The passageway led to a sinister-looking infirmary. In the middle of it was an operation chair speckled with blood, some fresh, other stains cracked and dried from age. There were tools set on a table next to it that looked more like instruments of torture than surgical devices, and they alone were enough for her to lose her nerve. She fought against them, dragging her feet to stop them taking her over there. They hissed and barked in their language, her panic growing as they hauled her closer to the dim room, one light bulb swinging above the chair like a scene pulled straight from a horror vid.

With a guttural cry they thrust her face-first into the chair, securing her neck, wrists and ankles into place. She understood what they were going to do now: not torture her, but implant her. She cried out her pleading protests she didn't even know if they could understand, muffled from her face being pressed against the foul-smelling fabric. The batarians either didn't understand or completely ignored, and she felt the cold kiss of steel on her nape.

And that's when it happened again. Even from her vision obscured by her position, she could see the pale violet glow of her corona, and could feel the tingle spreading from the mutant nerves of her nervous system traveling straight to her limbs. Adrenaline pumped furiously through her veins, and that combined with the threat of being turned into an obedient slave was enough to make her want to give into the influx of power rather than push it back down.

Her roar masked the confused chatter of her captor and she heaved her body upwards, the constraints snapping against her crackling skin. She barely registered the pain that caused, too absorbed in how it felt to give into the raw power.

She turned to the batarians, and registered the widening of all four eyes as they took in the biotic human standing in front of them.

"Checkt, checkt!" one yelled, which she assumed was the batarians word for attack or charge as they both pulled out the guns, thumbing the safety off.

Shepard hastily threw up her hand in front, doing the self-taught mnemonic she practiced, and the closest batarians wasn't picked off his fee as the coffee she'd used to practice was, but he staggered back one pace enough for her, enough for her to dive behind a metal cabinet. The tough steel absorbed the bullet impacts before they began to advance on her. She looked around for something she could use for self-defence, and saw the table of knives, scalpels, syringes, rib-openers and other instruments she couldn't identify, but still equally as gruesome.

She slowly held out her palm, focusing on the object and pulled her arm back to activate the other power she had tried to teach herself, creatively named 'pull'. The dish of instruments was pulled towards her, but not as close as she liked. Only the syringe landed close enough for her to grab. She had no idea what the velar substance in it was, but she planned to stab it straight into whatever batarians bastard came close enough.

Shepard cradled the needle in both hands close to her chest like it was a life-line, which it may very well be. She listened to the footfalls, coming closer and closer to her. She gave the syringe a self-assuring squeeze, waiting until she saw the toe of a boot scuffle the floor to her right. She surged upwards with a cry of exertion, driving the needle deep into the shocked batarians neck. His gun fired wildly at the far wall from panic, his compatriot swearing as the drugged batarians swayed unsteadily on his feet. All four eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped forward, comatose.

"Bitch!" he snarled in perfect but accented English. He levelled his assault rifle at her, but she was already gone back into cover, a procured assault rifle in her hands. The gun felt cold and too heavy for her, even in both hands. She tried to mimic the way she had seen them hold it, one hand just below the muzzle, the other holding the handle with her index finger on the trigger. She tried to straighten out the gun, but she couldn't balance the cumbersome weapon in her hands. Nonetheless, it was better than her being defenceless. There was no other sedative on hand, and her biotics weren't strong enough to take them on. She thrust the muzzled around the corner of her cover, and fired madly around the room. The kickback nearly broke her wrists, her arms jolting upwards of their own volition. She stopped firing so as not to spend all the clips in the chamber, hearing the batarians repeat the insult from earlier. She snuck a glance, and saw one of her bullets had got him in the thigh by a pure stroke of fortune. Shepard whispered a thanks and begged for more assistance for whatever omnipotent deity may or may not exist and be watching the exchange.

Whilst the batarians was preoccupied trying to dig the bullet buried into his leg, she pointed the gun at him, arms straining from raising them to aim with the burden. She fired off more shots, the vibrations coursing down her arms and running into her shoulders. Most of the bullets were fired in a wide arc around her actual target, but one clipped his shoulder, sending a small gobbet of bloodied flesh against the wall behind him. The gun clicked as the chamber tried to send out a bullet from its empty clip, and it hissed from overheating. She thrust the spent rifle to the ground, charging forward and barrelled straight into the alien, her momentum assisted by her biotics allowing the lithe human to overpower the large batarian and tackle him to the ground. He responded by smashing the butt of his rifle into the bottom of her mouth. She felt an agonising sharp pain as she bit her tongue and tasted the bitter coppery tang of blood. Weakened by pain and still stunned, the batarian shoved her off, aiming the muzzle of his gun at her. She swiped a glowing hand at its business end, sending it off target just as his finger squeezed the trigger. Shepard kicked her legs up, flattening her back to add more power and reach to the kick. Her foot caught him in the belly, where thankfully his armour was a little softer. He doubled over, allowing Shepard to leap-frog over him and down back into the passageway. She heard his shouts and the _tat-tat-tat_ of his gun firing but she didn't dare break stride. Even without knowing where she was going she sprinted with all the haste her legs would tolerate. She chanced a look back at the pursuing batarian, and felt herself run head-long into something solid when she rounded the next corner. Shepard's eyes widened in alarm as a strong arm wrapped around her shoulder, but she found herself looking into the face of a tall, dark-skinned human, his eyes visibly sympathetic in his open-faced helmet.

"A survivor. Get her back to the ship," the man barked at another one behind him.

A younger man with shorn blonde hair took her arm, leading her down the corridor. She opened her mouth to start asking one of the many questions on her lips but he signalled for her to be quiet. Shepard complied, closing her mouth with a snap, walking beside the armoured human in total silence. She took a closer look at his blue heavy armour and saw the sign of the Alliance stamped onto his chest plate, just right and above of his chest. That small, unassuming stamp mass produced by a machine filled her with hope. The Alliance, the human army amassed of ground troops and fleets was here. She could have wept from relief at the moment. Instead, she hoarsely said "Thank you," before she slumped unconscious into his arms.

~o0o~

Anderson looked over at the young girl that sat in one of the examination tables in the medbay of the Imperial, the ship that had caught the distress call from Mindoir all too late. The young girl, whose name he only knew to be 'Shepard', was the only survivor they had found, and they'd scanned the planet. A young farmer girl of sixteen...it was horrible. To have seen so much, and endured so much more.

Anderson stared at her freckled profile mostly hidden by a curtain of messy, unkempt red hair. All that he could see was the tip of her straight, small nose. To say she was in shock would be a massive understatement. Shepard hadn't even talked to anyone since being brought on-board, her bright green eyes glazed and unresponsive, like they weren't seeing anything before her.

Doctor Georgia, the kindly young physician had tried everything to pull just one syllable from her, but she had been unsuccessful. It didn't stop her from chattering away at the girl, hoping to distract her mind from the horrors that were chained within.

She excused herself away from her side and walked over to Lieutenant Anderson.

"How is she doing?" he asked, gesturing to her.

Georgia's brow crinkled with concern. "Well, there isn't much sign of physical trauma or injury, but..."

"It's her mental health we should be worried about," Anderson finished grimly.

"Aye, that much is true. The poor dear. What's she been through..."

"Dammit. I wish we had caught this earlier. Batarians, attacking our colonies, killing our people. It's…" Anderson trailed off, driving his fist into the wall.

His omni-tool chimes on his wrist, and he saw a message from Doyle.

"I need to take this. Keep me updated on any progress."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

He stepped out of the medbay and into the cabin opposite before he opened the channel to him.

"Admiral, sir. I take it this is relating to Mindoir?" he asked, seeing the set jaw of the grizzled face of Admiral Jacob Doyle and the blaze of anger in his green/grey eyes.

"Yes. What the hell happened down there?" he asked angrily.

"The batarians massacred the entire colony, sir. Once they saw our ships arriving, they detonated charges they had set up, effectively wiping them all out. Only one girl survived, sir," he informed him, struggling to maintain his composure as he recounted the events. Until the day he died, Anderson wouldn't be able to scrub the sight of the entire colony being engulfed in a blaze of orange as it blew up.

The Admiral didn't bother hiding his emotions, swearing loudly and punching his desk. "One survivor? That's it?"

"Yes, sir. She's only sixteen"

"How in hell did one girl survive all that and everyone else died?" he asked in disbelief.

Anderson hesitated, remembering seeing the girl glowing as she ran into his squad, away from a room containing one dead batarian and being chased by a second one that had been roughed up.

"Shepard is a biotic, sir. It seems to me she fought back and managed to escape."

Doyle raised a sceptical eyebrow. "One sixteen year old girl fought and escaped from slavers? Batarians at that?"

"Yes. In fact, I think she killed one."

He swore again, but in admiration this time. "She's good. We need someone like her."

"Sir?" Anderson asked questioningly at what he alluded to. "You want me to recruit her?"

He waved a dismissive hand. "When she's of age, of course. Biotics are always a welcome addition to the Alliance."

"She's just lost her family, friends and home and you want me to ask her to join the Alliance?" he asked in disbelief.

"I'm not expecting her to fill out an application form right now. Just keep tabs on her, and when she's of age, ask her," he said simply.

"What should I do with her in the meantime?" he asked tiredly, the events of today weighing down on him. "Her home was destroyed."

Doyle rested his elbows on his desk, pressing the tips of his fingers together. "You said she's a biotic? Send her to the academy."

Anderson inclined his head. "I'll contact Kahlee."

"Good." He cut off connection.

~o0o~

Shepard's eyes remained fixed on a particular spot of the medbay, remaining oblivious to all the activity around the ship, ignoring the incessant questions of her well-being. The answer to those inane queries should be obvious; her whole home was destroyed. The image of Mindoir burning, littered with the bodied f everyone she had known and loved were etched into the back of her eyelids and seeped deep into her skin. When she showered, she scrubbed until her skin was red-raw but it did nothing to remove the filth that seemed to stain her skin. Short of stripping it from her flesh, nothing would remove it.

"Shepard?"

She blinked as she tried to remember who the voice belonged to without looking at her face. What was her name again? Ginny? No that wasn't it. Georgina or something like that, yes.

"Shepard, we're approaching the Citadel. We're going there for a stop-off, then you'll be taken to the Academy. You need to report to the bridge, on the deck above this one. I'll escort you, come one."

She offered Shepard her hand like she was a baby incapable of walking without support. She slipped off the examination table and ignored her hand, walking out of the medbay and to the elevator, the doctor hurrying after her. She knew she should care about what the Academy was, but she couldn't bring herself to. Instead of asking her, she pressed the button of the elevator to take them to deck 1 and they rode up in silence, Doc glancing over at her several times. She was growing sick of those looks, like they expected her to snap and rip the closest person apart with her bare hands.

"I wish you hadn't refused to implant. It will let you control your powers rather than allowing them control over you," she said patronizingly.

Doc had ensured that she was well acquainted with the ins and outs of biotics, implants, amps and the rest of it. Shepard refused to implant, because her biotics were like her. Unpredictable, uncontrolled, even a slight bit chaotic. Why should she change herself?

"You can become down-right dangerous if you're not implanted, and I'm not saying that to make you feel bad or frightened. I'm saying it because I care."

Shepard sighed at these words through her nose. She was sick of people and their feigned care. They most likely thought she was a freak, and needed to be tagged and collared.

Doc was silent as she escorted her to the airlock. Shepard hoped she had given up. She had given up on herself, so why she tried to connect was beyond her. It would take more than kind words and soft caresses to piece her back together. What she ultimately wanted, she realised as she stepped out of the airlock to be greeted by a woman in her young twenties with short, blonde hair, was revenge.

~o0o~

Shepard picked listlessly at the food placed in front. Kahlee was trying to get through to the dour sixteen year-old, God bless her soul, but Shepard wished people would stop trying, that they would give up on her. Everything she loved, hated and known had been doused in flames. Why was she the only one to escape the burning? Perhaps she shouldn't. Perhaps she should die as well.

"Shepard's a good family name," Kahlee said as she placed a mug of steaming tea in front of her. "The name of a leader, a protector. What's your first name?"

Shepard sighed inwardly. It was clear she wasn't ready to give up on her. Might as well humour the poor woman.

"Erika," she responded. It was in-keeping with the 'leader' theme of her name. Her parents always used to say she was going to be a leader. When she was a young girl, she dreamed of becoming a princess and always took charge of the games she played with her friends until she became a freak of nature.

"Erika Shepard," Kahlee said, testing her name. "It's strong—as is the person it belongs to."

Shepard evaded her gaze and folded her arms over her chest. She didn't feel strong. Right now she felt like crap. And her parents were full of crap. She didn't see leadership in the future. Just bleak hopelessness.

"I know it seems bad," he older woman said as though she had read her mind. "But it does get better. I've been there. I'm no stranger to pain."

Shepard nodded mutely, but really she didn't doubt that it was a fucking lie. She didn't see how this gaping hole in her life could be mended, but she had no choice but to move on, to her let her feet drag her into the unknown future.

"Thanks," she muttered. "I'm going to turn in. I'm tired."

Kahlee smiled, having been around enough teenagers to know a poorly disguised excuse when she heard one, but she let it go. Shepard had been through a lot.

Kahlee showed her to the spare room by the right-hand stairs before wishing her a goodnight. Shepard collapsed on the bed after kicking off her converse, arms spread at her side. She did in fact try and sleep but images flashed everytime she closed her eyes. She could see the smoke and flames, smell the acrid odour and the blood that soaked absolutely everything. The sound of gunfire and screams resounded in her head over the sound of ringing that still remained in her ears.

Shepard grabbed one of the pillows from behind her head and crushed it to her chest in fear. She was safe, away from Mindoir, but the terror remained a festering wound on her brain.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Shepard's eyes opened the next morning, which surprised her—she didn't recall falling asleep. She rose from the bed yawning. Still so tired, but perhaps it due more to the weight she carried on her back than lack of sleep. She half-expected to wake up back in their old farm-house but the sweet dream was chased away by the nightmare that was reality.

She padded down the glass stairs in her socks, calling Kahlee's name as she poked her head around into the kitchen. That was empty, along with the lounge, the game/office suite at the back and every other bedroom. Shepard complained about her prying but now she was gone, she felt so alone and vulnerable. There were no distractions from Mindoir anymore, now it surrounded and suffocated her. She actually felt her throat tighten, limiting her oxygen intake. She needed to get out of here.

Shepard all but stumbled to the door, slamming the holographic panel to open, walking down to the elevator and summoning it. She leaned against it, taking in the view of the skyscrapers, neon lights and endless stream of skycars through the window. It was so different from what she called home, which had been all nature: green rolling hills, forests, lakes and farmland.

The elevator arrived with a chime, and parted to reveal a batarian. Shepard started, shrinking back with obvious fear in her eyes. The batarian glared at her with all four eyes, no doubt misconstruing her aversion for racial prejudice rather than first-hand experiences.

She backed-up until her back hit the glass of the window, the batarian pushing past her with an angry glare.

"What's your problem, human?" he snapped in the usual deep, gravelly voice.

She tried to reply, but she felt strangled, the ability to speak fleeing from her. He merely shook his head and proceeded down the corridor, right to Kahlee's apartment. Shepard watched curiously as he entered the door she had carelessly left open. The fear was still poisoning the blood in her veins but she needed to know what the hell he was doing in her apartment. Surely Kahlee would have mentioned it if she was expecting a visitor.

Shepard stepped away from the window and returned to the apartment. _I must be stupid, _she thought as she sneaked in through the door, crouching behind a pillar. _If I get caught..._

The sound of a disturbance in the bedroom downstairs drew her attention. Ever so slowly, she crept forward, pressing herself flush against the wall before she peeked out. The batarian was raiding the room, checking in every crevice and corner but not taking anything. He must be looking for something. _Or someone, _a small voice whispered in her mind before she clamped the thought down. If he was looking for her, he would've grabbed her out in the hallway.

The batarian concluded his search and moved forward, Shepard biting down a gasp as she went back into hiding. Fortunately, he entered the kitchen to the left, Shepard moving to hide behind the wall opposite and follow him. She had to know why he was here.

Suddenly the terminal beeped with the smooth female voice of the VI announcing "Incoming video call from K. Sanders."

The batarian quickly ran to the terminal, Shepard following and crouching in cover at the doorway. He synced his omni-tool with the terminal and answered the call.

"Shepard? Are you there?" she heard her ask.

The batarian laughed and pointed the omni-tool at him so she could see who had answered. "Guess again."

"What? Who are you? What have you done with her?" she asked quickly.

"You may not know me, but you are familiar my employer."

"If you've touched Shepard, I swear—"

"Listen lady, I don't even know who this Shepard is, but this isn't about her. So why don't you show yourself, and you can at least have a hero's death."

"We'll see if you still have that same bravado when we meet face-to-face, batarian." The tone Kahlee used was so dangerous and dark Shepard felt her skin prickle with gooseflesh.

"I'm looking forward to it," he said with a grin as he turned around, seeing Shepard before she could disappear from sight.

"Hey, girl! Get out here now!" he snarled.

"Shepard, run away now!" Kahlee cried.

"You do that girl and I will shoot both your legs and drag you over here," the batarian snapped. She could feel his foot-falls as he approached her.

Shepard trembled from head-to-toe in fear, Mindoir resurfacing with painful clarity. She rose to her feet, legs barely fit to support her and slowly lumbered into to room, each step heavier than the last. The batarian grabbed hold of her, wrapping an arm around her throat so Kahlee could see the both of them. Her icy blue eyes flashed with anger when she saw her dragged on screen, gun to her head.

"Shepard, I'm on my way back, ok? I'll be there as soon as I can," she said in a soothing voice.

Shepard just nodded mutely, but she had the intention to escape from this batarian now.

Kahlee turned back to the batarian. "You hurt her, I swear..."

"Don't give me a reason to, human," he snapped before disconnecting. "So you're Shepard? Are you that bitches brat?"

Shepard didn't answer. If she opened her mouth she might just breakdown. Right now her emotions were a whirlwind of fear and anger.

"We might be waiting for a while," he crooned to her. "Might as well get to know each other."

She became astutely aware of the cool metal gun pressed against her temple, turning the blood in her veins cold.

"When Kahlee gets here..." she started, opting for threatening but her voice trembled.

"I'll shoot that dumb bitch right through the eyes, but not before I blow your tiny little brain out."

Shepard was starting once more to give up, but then she remembered she wasn't hopeless. She had her biotics. Her experience with them was limited, but she had to do something.

Shepard focused on the fury pounding through her body and the threat she felt, blocking out all else. Suddenly, she felt the familiar light hum that radiated from her brain down her spinal cord then spreading across her skin with the gentlest of static shocks.

"What the—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence when she focused all the energy into her right hand and smacked the gun away, a gun-shot ringing out as she knocked it aside. She freed herself from his grasp, throwing him against the wall with nothing more than a single thought. He crashed into the far wall where shelves of books and ship models were, causing an avalanche of items to cascade down. Shepard began to back away as he emerged from the pile with a murderous expression, willing her biotics to do something, anything but she was panicking too much which done nothing but build up the charge around her. She couldn't force her mind to focus it into a single attack.

"You little cunt," he snarled, kicking a bunch of books aside as Shepard began to hurriedly back away into the lounge.

The batarian snatched up his gun from the ground and began advancing to her, firing off bullets as she squealed and dove behind the fireplace, facing the window. Perhaps she could signal one of the skycars...surely someone would help her. A knock on the door along with an unfamiliar voice stopped both of them.

"Sanders? Hey what's all that noise? Can you keep it down?" It was one of her neighbours.

"Please, help me!" she screamed. "He's trying to kill me!"

The door opened and a man in his thirties wearing nothing more than sweatpants swept over the scene with his wide-eyes, seeing furniture over-turned and damaged, but most of all the scared teenager hiding behind a fireplace and a batarian holding a gun. His hands quickly went up to the air, showing his shaking palms.

"Hey, listen man," he started the negotiation for his life but then there was a leaking hole in his chest.

He looked down, expression confused before the horror set in. He collapsed twitching onto the ground, his blood soaking into the 'welcome' mat. Shepard was transfixed at the grisly site, hoping she would not fall to the same fate. She had survived Mindoir, she could survive this!

Shepard emerged from her hiding spot with renewed vigour, and equally angry scowl fixed upon her features.

"Decided you want to die with honour, have you human?" he sneered.

"No. I decided I'm not going to run away anymore," she growled, and with that she gesticulated with her arm, sending him flying over her shoulder and straight out of the window, down below into the void.

In the general silence that ensued she became aware of the slight headache settling in behind her eyes. She slumped down on the sofa from exhaustion and the severe trembling of her legs. That was the second person she had killed. She had taken another person's life. What gave her the right to play God?

Shepard curled up on the couch to stop the convulsions that rocked her whole body, a haunted feeling sinking in. Back on Mindoir she was too traumatized by the destruction of her colony to focus on killing one person, but now she alone in the apartment with nothing more than her thoughts which continued to chastise her. Words such as 'murderer' and 'killer' seemed to appear in the very air before her. She squeezed her eyes shut to block them out, but instead the scene of her killing the batarian played out in third person so she could see her glowing with raw power, tossing him carelessly out of the window. Shepard threw herself up off the couch, pacing restlessly around the apartment, Kahlee finally arriving.

"Erika, are you alright?" she asked, glancing down at the still-bleeding body at the door. "Oh my god…what it the batarian? Where is he?"

Shepard gestured over to the large hole in the window, Kahlee rendered speechless.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I..." Shepard began, trying to find the words. She sighed then tried again. "I killed him…threw him out of the window."

"With your biotics?" she asked, gently closing his eyes before stepping around him.

Shepard nodded mutely, collapsing back onto the couch.

"That's quite a gift. Most people can't manage such strength without training."

"I couldn't…on Mindoir," she said numbly, staring at the large jagged hole in the window. "I wasn't able to lift a person before."

"Curious," Kahlee murmured to herself. "Well, Grissom Academy should be able to shed some light on the exponential spike in your biotics."

"Grissom Academy…that's where I'm going?" she asked, remembering the doctor aboard the Alliance ship mentioning an Academy.

"It's a specialised school for biotics, and there's a place there for you, if you want."

Shepard chewed on her lip as she debated going to this strange place where she knew no one. But she had no home now, and she wanted to learn how to control her power.

She looked as Kahlee, and gave her one, resolute nod.

~o0o~

Shepard was going to Grissom sooner than she could've predicted. The blonde Intel Officer had told her she had arranged for transportation to the station and it would be arriving at 1700 hours that same day. So at 1500 Shepard packed away necessities like toiletries and the clothes Kahlee had bought her into a duffel bag and she was done. Shepard had nothing from home to take with her; just some pictures on her omni-tool and a mixture of good and bad memories each vying for her attention over the other. But she wasn't going to allow herself to be dragged into the past. Now she had a future to consider, even if it scared the hell out of here. She knew after she survived Mindoir had no choice but to move on and start over but she was not the most socially adept person. Being around hundreds of other teenagers who no doubt split into cliques intimidated her. That was one thing she wasn't going to miss about her old life; the cliques in school. Being different to nearly almost everyone made her an outcast in all the groups of people, and she ended up spending years alone before she met her small but tight group of friends. God, she missed them. Missed the summer days of hiking through the forests and helping themselves to the strawberries off the fields. Missed the winter time when they would have sleep-over's' and spent the night playing horror games. Missed how they laughed and cried together.

Kahlee knocked on the bedroom door at 1630, telling her it was time to make her way to the docking bay. Taking a steadying breath, she turned off her tool and rose from off the bed, slinging the duffel onto her shoulder, following Kahlee to the door. She cast one last look at the apartment before she closed that chapter of her life too.

**A N: I wanted to get this chapter out as soon as possible so there wouldn't be too much of a wait, so I apologise if it seems rushed or short. If you like, leave me a review, it helps me out a lot. Enjoy **


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N.: Liberties have been taken with some of the game's history/lore, I hope you don't mind.**

**Also, I'd like the chance to take this opportunity to thank quantum-enigma and cchickki for their reviews, and if you haven't checked out cchickki's ME fiction "Exodus" I highly recommend it, it is so good! Anyway, on with the story!**

**And thank you to those that have added this to their follows and favourites, it means a lot that you're enjoying this story and it motivates me to do more! **

Chapter 3

Shepard awoke covered in sweat and her sudden jolt of consciousness alarming Kahlee. Another nightmare, but this had been different. It hadn't been the cut-and-dried images of her memories, it had been a vision conjured by her traumatic memories and her imagination. She had been back on Mindoir, trying to reach her parents and her friends, the only people she cared about in the galaxy. But barring the way was a wall of burning bodies which she couldn't climb no matter what she did. Every time she neared the top the next body she grabbed onto would slip out of the wall and cause her to tumble down, landing right underneath the charred corpse. On her third try, another body fell down as predicted, but it triggered a chain reaction. As soon as she hit the ground with a painful grunt, the whole wall collapsed, burying her in the dead colonists, their charred stench choking her and their combined mass crushing her. Her scream was muffled out due to the heap, and from the vantage point she had over her dream, he saw all the people she cared about burst into flames. She saw their skin flay away from their boiling flesh, she saw their bones roast and their eyeballs melt. They burned until only ash remained.

Shepard staggered into the communal bathroom at the aft of the shuttle and splashed cold water on her face to wash away the sweat. If only it were so easy to be rid of those horrible images and the pain that came with them.

She heard a knock on the door.

"It's open," she said as she exited the bathroom.

Kahlee poked her head around the door. "We're fifteen minutes out, if you want to grab some food or a coffee."

Shepard nodded mutely, her mouth clamped firmly shut to stop herself from pleading for her to take her back to the Citadel. She didn't want Kahlee to think she was cowardly and weak plus it would do no good. It was too late to back out now.

Kahlee retreated from back out of the room, Shepard casting one final look at the hollow reflection gazing back at her. She turned away, disgusted at the sight. She took Kahlee's recommendation and decided to have a quick coffee before they arrived at Grissom Academy. She took the warm, bitter stimulate back to her seat, so she could watch out the window as they came into dock. It was about a hundredth of the size of the Citadel but could still easily house a thriving community. The station itself was a large sphere encased in two arms, at the fore two small separate arms that ran parallel to each other, intersecting at the sphere. The aft was much larger, two arms that were a twin of the ones at the front with another two that flanked either side.

The passenger shuttle smoothly turning to starboard as it approached their designated docking bay. It was angled straight as it entered the port, the speed reducing to a slow crawl to let the docking clamps attaching themselves onto the ship at the hull and wings to securely anchor it in place without incident, a docking tube extending and attaching to the airlock.

"This is our stop," Kahlee prompted gently, rising from her seat and leading her to the airlock.

"You're coming too?" Shepard asked, trying to prevent the optimism from creeping into her voice.

"Yes. My father John Grissom built this place, and I'm to take over when he retires and I've agreed to take up a position as a mentor here."

Shepard was relieved to hear Kahlee would be staying with her, but she remained casual and cool.

"Kahlee!" A voice called her, and an aging man hobbled out to them, his hair thinning and white, his limbs sinewy and he carried himself with an aura of pride.

"Dad," Kahlee returned his greeting with a smile but Shepard could sense some slight tension in there acknowledgments of one another. She wondered about the nature of their relationship and if they were close.

"This is Erika Shepard," John Grissom said as he scrutinised her under his steely gaze. Shepard felt uncomfortable as he evaluated her with his eyes, resisting the urge to squirm. There was something about him that made her feel like an ant under a magnifying glass.

"Yes, she is a biotic, but has yet to be implanted or provided with proper training," Kahlee explained quickly. Shepard was glad she had jumped in and answered- she had lost the ability to speak.

"I see. When did your powers first manifest?" he asked, still scrutinising her intensely.

"When I was nine," she answered without hesitation. It was not a moment she was like to forget.

"You were young. Perhaps you'll be a true biotic, not like the weaklings in this school," he harrumphed.

"Dad…" Kahlee reprimanded him with a shake of her head.

"I opened this prestigious academy for the highly gifted and nothing but drivel seems to walk through that door."

"Not all of them," Kahlee countered sharply. "Besides, everyone is unique. Their skill level will vary."

He merely sighed. "It's been a long journey. I'll get someone to show you to your rooms."

"You won't yourself, dad?" Kahlee asked with a hint of amusement, as though fully aware her question would irk him.

"What do I look like, a bloody bellman?" He summoned over one of the guards on duty and gave him the order.

He led them inside the actual station, which was all shiny white surfaces, skylights and some plants purely for aesthetic purposes. They passed one room as he led them to their sleeping quarters, where she saw a group of teenagers throwing controlled biotic attacks at practice dummies under the guidance of a tutor that patrolled among them, hands clasped behind his back. When his eyes met Shepard's through the glass-doors, she knew he was going to be a hard-ass.

"Alright, Kahlee, you will be staying here," he indicated to the room to their right, obscured by the unblemished metal door. "One of the private rooms we offer to our teachers. Shepard, I'll show you to the girls' dorm."

"I'm going to get settled in," Kahlee said, hovering at the door. "I'll meet up with you later."

She nodded, then followed the grim matured man which she could now see was armed with a concealed pistol up a flight of stair into a wide corridor, into a long rectangular room lined with bunk beds. Next to each bunk was a set of two lockers to store personal items and luggage.

"Your locker is locked with this combination." He opened his omni-tool and sent her the four number code. "Memorise and delete it. Oh, and welcome to the Ascension Program," he grunted before he left.

~o0o~

The next day Shepard was put into the basic class for learning biotics, and to her dismay she could see that she was the oldest. All the other students were around the age of seven to ten, their biotics having just manifested. It was in this stifling classroom with twenty other students that she learnt the theory of biotics: that it came from the exposure to element zero whilst they were still in the womb, or eezo as it was more commonly known as. Whilst this could cause cancerous tumours in some kids, some other were born with the potential to manipulate dark matter that would manifest between the ages of infancy to pre-puberty. In order to use their powers to their will, they would be given implants, thousands of tiny nodes on their brain and spinal cord. An amp to amplify their power would be inserted at the base of their scalp where it joined the neck. These would be grafted into them tomorrow.

The kids voiced aloud their horror at these words, some of the younger ones crying. Only Shepard remained silent but the thought of the pending operation made her feel nauseated. Though anaesthetic would be used, she knew it would leave a residual pain for a time.

The teacher raised his voice, and went on to explain the different classes of biotics and their individual powers as well as the ones that carried across to more than one class. Their performance in practice would determine what class they would be a part of. The main biotic classes were adept, sentinel and vanguard. Their tutor then asked the class to tell how they had been exposed and when their powers had manifested, what they had used them for. Shepard didn't raise her hand but Instructor Davies asked her to stand up and tell her 'story' as he so put it.

She did stand up but didn't tell them her tale. "I don't feel like sharing."

"Shepard, don't be such a pessimist. I know when you're a biotic you feel prejudiced against and shunned by society, but you're among peers here. Tell us." His voice was too cheery and smile too wide. She hated him almost instantly.

"It's not something you want to hear about," she said, trying to save him from the horror of her past, but he refused to listen.

"Shepard, I have worked as a mentor to biotics for nearly twenty years. There is nothing you can say that I haven't already heard."

That sentence right there almost made her snap. She reigned in her powers, but couldn't stop her tongue.

"Oh really?" she said with sarcasm. "So you've had a pupil in the past who was a colony kid, hated by their friends and feared by their family? I suppose they had to use their powers to kill the batarians that savaged their home planet? And then again on the Citadel when they were ambushed by a gun for hire? I suppose their powers also manifested when a group of thugs were kicking the shit out of their closest friend when they were nine years old?"

Her chest was rising and falling with the quickened rate of her breathing, her face flushed with anger and eyes glistening with the pain her eulogy invoked. The whole class was silent and staring at her, even the teacher had shut his fat mouth, staring at her in shock.

"You're from Mindoir?" he asked gently.

She nodded in reply, suddenly very aware of the twenty-so eyes glued to her.

"Perhaps you would like to leave class early?" It wasn't a request, just a polite dismissal for behaviour he deemed unacceptable. She had had teachers like him in the past to know them well enough.

Shepard wasn't going to complain though, she couldn't leave fast enough. She stormed out, nearly knocking over her chair in her swift escape, stalking through the corridors in search of a quiet, secluded space. She found a room on the top floor that seemed to no longer be in use, as everything was covered in dust and she had to hack her way in.

She sat down on of the dusty tables, tucking her knees beneath her chin and staring out of the window into the unfathomable black depths. Even among biotics, she was different. Was there anywhere she would fit in? Would she find anyone that she felt a kinship with?

Shepard sat brooding for what must have been hours when she heard the door hiss open. She was so startled she tumbled right off the table as she hurriedly twisted to see who had entered.

"Who's there?" a male voice demanded.

Shepard emerged from the floor behind the desk, rubbing her head which she had struck on the floor.

"Just a plain colony kid seeking refuge," she mumbled her reply to the glaring stranger.

He could only be a year older than her with cropped blonde hair and dark blue eyes that glared at her until he deemed that she was not a threat.

"You're Shepard, then?" he asked, sizing her up. "A scrawny kid like you is the sole survivor of Mindoir?"

"Watch your mouth," Shepard snapped, bristling at the casual insult he had carelessly flung at her.

"Or what, girl?"

She didn't reply. Just allowed the blue glow to cover her skin.

"You think that frightens me?" he asked coolly, flaring brighter than her. "I'm a vanguard. Implanted, amped and trained. I could reduce you to a red puddle, if I wanted to. But I don't."

Shepard only allowed her own glow to recede when his did. She didn't trust him.

"What do you want then?" she snapped.

He raised a brow at her presumptuousness.

"Hey, this is my hang-out! I come here during the down-time, you know when I want to be _alone."_ He emphasized the last word as he levelled her with a meaningful look. It made her all the more adamant to remain, just to annoy him even if his presence did grate her own nerves.

"Whatever," he said with a shrug when she made no move to leave. "Stay if you want. People might talk though."

"I don't give a shit what other people think," she shot back.

He removed something from his shirt pocket. Shepard only recognised it as a cigarette pack when he popped one into his mouth and lit it.

"Good attitude to have. Want one?"

Shepard refused the proffered cigarette. She didn't find the thought of having tar block up her respiratory organs as appealing.

"Suit yourself," he said, taking a long drag then expelling the smoke a few second later. "It's a great stress relief."

"I don't need smokes to relive stress," she said, but she had a feeling Grissom Academy was going to get her wound up.

"Why?" he asked her in a lazy voice. "You got a boy?"

"N-no!" Shepard sputtered, blushing at his insinuation. "I...I just learnt how to handle stress."

"Whatever you say." He took another drag, keeping the smoke in his mouth for longer as though savouring its horrid taste. "So, what's it like being the new kid?"

"Makes me feel like an invalid." She shook her head. "Oldest one in my class."

"No doubt," he replied with a small grin. "So, you're single, right?"

Shepard sighed. She didn't know why she was indulging his personal questions he fired off at her.

"What's it to you?" she asked, irritated.

He shrugged, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette. "You're kinda cute. In a not so obvious way."

Shepard glared at his backhanded compliment. "You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet."

He sighed theatrically. "Must be why I'm single, too."

"Can't say I'm surprised," she quipped sarcastically. He was about as charming as snail slime.

"Ouch! My manly pride."

"Speaking like that, I'm surprised you had pride to begin with."

He blinked at her for a few seconds before chuckling. "I like you. You seem cool, even if you are quite…angsty."

She quirked an eyebrow at his choice of words. "You think I'm angsty?"

"As angsty as those fourteen year old emo girls listening to boys bands trying to pass themselves as metal bands."

"Well, can you blame me?" she muttered darkly.

He took a drag, angling his face expelling the smoke away from her before turning to face her dead on. "You're right. I'm being judgmental. I'm sorry."

"It's…fine," she relented at the unexpected apology.

"Am I charming now?" he asked, breaking the moment.

"You were right up until you asked that question," she sighed, strangely feeling disappointed.

"Can't blame a guy for trying." He dropped his cigarette, putting it out with the sole of his shoe. "I should get going. I'll be here tomorrow, same time. Maybe I'll see you?" he asked with a smile. It was on oddly handsome smile, disarmingly so. He was a pain in the ass and she found it impossible to discern if he was a good kid or a creep, but having a friend in someone that had been in here for a while could prove useful. And who know...Shepard could grow to like him in time.

"Yeah, you will," she answered and left before she changed her mind.

"Great," he said eagerly, leaving quickly as though he was afraid she would bail out.

~o0o~

Kahlee had intended to visit Shepard to see how she was acclimatizing to the change of scene after the final class, but she found herself following up C-Sec's initial report on the batarian that had broken into the apartment not two days past. So far, C-Sec had found nothing on him. No DNA samples could be found, thus he couldn't ID him. And since his body was never retrieved, it would make it all the harder. For the third time, she brought up the call she had held with him, having had the foresight to record it. For humans, it was difficult to discern the difference between batarians, but the scar running from just above his right eye to his left jaw certainly added a distinguishing characteristic to him. But it still didn't answer the question as to why he had targeted her. True, her work in the research cell on Sidon didn't earn her many friends, but that had happened some time ago. She still couldn't possibly be getting targeted for that, and what she had uncovered and had been working on hadn't exactly been public knowledge. It was curious.

She froze the recording on his face completely facing the camera, and opened up a facial recognition program she downloaded through the extranet. It was almost frightening how easy it was to find such software on the public extranet, making it a haven for assassins or mercenaries hired for a hit on someone or even just stalkers searching for the address and contact details of the subject of their obsession.

Kahlee ran his face through the program, resulting in zero matches. She restricted the search to batarian species, hoping the limited search options might produce results. Sixteen matches were returned to her, a result of facial recognition software never quite achieving its purpose to perfection. Thankfully it was only a handful of possibilities- she wouldn't have to sift through hundreds.

She opened them all up simultaneously in tiles up on her monitor, her eyes scanning over the alien faces which only had the slightest of changes, a slightly different shade of their skin, minor jaw and chin size variations, their eyes spaced further or closer than others to the minimalist degree. Humans were always said to be the most individualistic species in the galaxy, and the aesthetics of the different species only served to prove some degree of truth to the assertion.

Ten of the faces had some scarred tissue, but these were easily differentiated. And none of them matched her would-be killer. Frowning with displeasure, she checked the date of the holo's displayed, then looked back at the single batarian picture. The scar was old, fading, but the holo's fairly recent, enough so that if he were among the sixteen he would have had his scar when the holo was taken. Which meant tracking him wouldn't be as easy as she hoped, leaving her options fairly limited.

Kahlee could try and hack into the Hegemony's database and try to find him in there, or buy the information from the Shadow Broker. He would be bound to have some information pertaining to her new friend, that is if she was willing to do business with a dangerous and untrustworthy person, and if she had the money. His information was always good, but at a price. But if she hacked into the Hegemony, there was always the chance they could detect her intrusion, and no matter how many precautions she took to avoid leaving a trail, there was always a chance they could track it back to her. And that would endanger not only herself, but her students. She couldn't take that chance.

So the Shadow Broker it was. And luck just had it that she happened to know one of his operatives.

~o0o~

As expected, her head and spine ached terribly after the operation. The slightest twitch of any muscle through her body sent a spasm of pain radiating through her entire central nervous system. So much so that Shepard remained in the infirmary instead of returning to the dorm. The skin where her head-jack had been inserted was ultra-sensitive to touch, the pillow underneath causing discomfort as the fabric clawed greedily at it. She rolled onto her side to alleviate it, and her eyes fell on the clock fixed on the wall. Grissom Academy stuck to the standard 24-hour Earth day-cycle, and the current time was 14:45, the time she had met _him _yesterday. She frowned when she realised she hadn't even got his name, and frowned deeper when she recalled their arrangement. Shepard didn't feel like dragging her aching body up to the abandoned room but she had never been one to bail on people, and something about Blondie intrigued her. She wanted to get to know him better. Plus it would take her mind off the number of strange and unpleasant sensations in her body right now.

She hefted herself off the bed and made her way to their meeting place steps as quick as her aching and exhausted body would allow, though she felt slightly anxious. Why was she so nervous about meeting a guy she scarcely knew? Shepard tried to ignore the sickly feeling that rose from her stomach to her throat as she arrived, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans as she entered. He was already there, sitting in a desk and swinging his legs.

"Shep, hey," he said, patting the spot on the desk next to him.

She took a seat, noting that he stunk of smoke. She had to wrestle with the urge to cough.

"You know you never told me you name," she said, looking at his profile.

"Well, neither did you. I only know your family name because scuttlebutt beat you here," he said, turning his head to stare right back at her.

"Erika," she said.

His eyes lit up when she told him her Christian name. "I like it. It fits you. My name's Jared Pascal. You had the operation today, right? How you feeling?"

"Sore," she said, acutely aware if the dull, throbbing ache.

"I may able to help with that, actually," he said, hopping off the desk and circling around to her back.

"What are you—"

"Just trust me," he cut her off, placing his hands on her shoulders.

His brushed the pads of his thumbs across her shoulders, just circling gently. Her shoulders tensed up at first, warding off the unwelcome touch. But as he applied more pressure, his hands moving down to her spine and kneading to alleviate some of the tension, she willed herself to relax. He was, after all, just trying to do her a favour. And she would be lying if she said it had no effect. The pain still lingered, but had ebbed considerably. She couldn't stop the sigh falling from her lips as she closed her eyes and leaned into the massage. Jared chuckled, his hands moving up and down her back then rubbing gently at the sensitive skin around her amp port, making her gasp in surprise. She had to admit though, it wasn't unpleasant in the least.

"Does your head hurt?" he asked, his fingers still stimulating her skin.

She nodded with an appreciative hum. His fingers rested on her temple, rubbing in a slow circular motion. She could feel the tension that had built behind her eyes ease till it was non-existent, but neither of them had moved, enjoying the moment. But his fingers stopped moving, pulling Shepard back to reality. Her eyes opened in confusment and she saw Jared was now standing in front of her, staring at her with a strange intensity, a cerulean glow surrounding his pupils as his hands formed around her face, leaning into her and pressing his lips against hers.

Shepard reacted instantly, roughly pushing him away and slapping him hard across the face so his head snapped to one side. He rubbed at the red hand-shaped mark on his cheek as he turned to stare at her in shock as well as anger.

"What the hell's your problem?" he snapped angrily.

"My problem?" she responded, seething. "You think a massage gives you the right to kiss me? We just fucking met a day ago!"

"Well I didn't hear you complaining when I was massaging you!" he returned, the glow in his eyes more intense.

"So what? You wanted recompense?" she yelled, her hands on her hips.

"No! I just thought that...I don't know, I just got caught in the moment," he finished lamely, hands dropping to his side.

Shepard began rubbing at her head which was beginning to ache again. She wished she hadn't let him lay a hand on her now.

"It's fine. I...may have over-reacted a little," she said, guilty assessing the red mark left on his face.

"Yeah, you can't half slap," he said, but he was grinning. Shepard even giggled lightly herself.

"Are we ok?" he asked sheepishly.

"You're too cute to say no to," she said, sighing melodramatically and twirling a lock of her hair around her finger.

He laughed at her display, resuming his seat beside her.

"I am sorry though," he reiterated.

"Well, you're my only damn friend in this place, so I'm not going to dump you. Yet, anyway."

"Hah! Good to know."

They talked a little longer, Shepard finding out that Jared came from New Jersey back on Earth and had been shipped out here at the age of eight when he first flared and all but destroyed the kitchen, almost giving his poor mother a heart-attack. His father had placed him on a ship to the academy the following day, and he had been here ever since. Shepard told him some stories from Mindoir about the trouble she got into with her biotics, how they had manifested at the age of nine when a group of bullies beat up her friend, Thomas. And how since then every day had been a war against her own body to suppress the power.

"Oh, shit look at the time!" Jared said, looking at the clock on the wall.

Shepard followed his gaze and saw that it was now 19:00 in the evening.

"We missed dinner," Shepard said, slightly disappointed. She was ravenous.

"Well, you better go and rest, Shepard. The day of the operation is always draining."

She realised how tired she was when he said that, yawning widely.

"Told you so. See you at breakfast tomorrow."

She gave him a questioning look. "Breakfast?"

"Seven-thirty sharp. I'll save you a seat."


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N.: This chapter is somewhat shorter and later than I originally intended, and I apologise for that and the fact its quality is not as good as the other chapters, but I'll probably return to this and edit it sometime. Despite that, I hope you can still derive some enjoyment from it **

Chapter 4

"Come on farm-girl, even you can do better than that!" Instructor Reynolds roared at her as her warp attack she used made the dummy only rock back slightly, instead of tearing it apart on a molecular level. "Actually fucking try, girl!"

She was panting and sweating from exertion after a gruelling hour of training. Breakfast had only been two hours ago, but she was hungry again already. Despite her exertion, she used warp again but it was weaker than the least.

"Pathetic! Jones, show her how it's done."

Megan Jones, a smug eighteen-year older spacer whose daddy was an admiral used warp on her dummy, the attack remaining on the dummy for a period of time as it feasted on its surface, leaving behind a scorched indent on it. The arrogant blonde-haired bitch smugly smiled at her and done a mock bow before she skittered back into place.

"See, Shepard? Why can't you fucking do that?" he asked before he walked away to bully some of the other kids.

"Suck my ass," she muttered under her breath, turning her attention back to the dummy.

"Instructor, sorry, can I borrow Shepard for a moment?" Kahlee was at the door to the practice room, her kind blue eyes seeking her out and smiling when she spotted her.

"Be quick," he grunted his assent.

Shepard all but ran from the room, grateful for the break no matter how brief it was.

"Never been more glad to see you, Kahlee," Shepard said with a wide grin.

"I'll bet! Reynolds got a mean-streak, that's for sure. But he is one of the best."

"So as much as I appreciate the rescue, why did you pull me from class?" she asked, sensing it was not just for a social call

"I wanted to check in with you. We haven't spoken since we arrived."

Shepard suddenly felt ashamed. She hadn't even thought about Kahlee since that day.

"Well, I'm glad you did. I don't have a lot of friends here right now. In fact, only one other beside you," she said with an embarrassed laugh.

"Do you mind if I ask who?" she said with an arched brow.

"Jared Pascal," she said indifferently.

"Oh him? I've taught him before. He's a bit of a wise-ass but he seems like a good kid."

"Yeah, I guess," she muttered, recalling the events of yesterday.

Kahlee noticed her narrowed eyes. "Erika, is something the matter?"

"It's nothing," she said dismissively.

"Well, there's something else I should tell you. I'll be going to the Citadel on a business tomorrow. I'm not sure when I'll be back."

"Ok," Shepard responded unsurely, not certain on how to react to the news. It did make her a little uneasy that she would be leaving, but Shepard wasn't a child anymore. She had to act like it.

"You should be ok, though. I shouldn't take too long, and you'll be well looked after," Kahlee assured her with a smile.

"Alright. I'll see you when you're back," Shepard said.

Kahlee nodded, taking her leave and Shepard returned to her classroom.

Instructor Reynolds glared at her when she returned but kept his mouth shut and for that she was grateful. She was this close to throwing his ass.

"Come on, back to work!" he yelled to the entire class, smacking his hands together. "Jensen, you're supposed to be warping that dummy, not tickling it!"

He continued taunting and goading the students until at long last they were dismissed for lunch, but they had another class to attend to after this, but Shepard was so exhausted she considered skipping it.

She wound up back on the exact same table she and Jared had had breakfast on in the morning. Breakfast had mostly consisted of more idle chatter, though Jared had warned her about her tutor, Reynolds. Shepard had been transferred to one of the older classes after being implanted, but unfortunately it meant having Reynolds as her tutor.

"I think I'll skip the next class," she mused aloud, prodding gently at the heated skin around her amp jack.

"Reynolds will rip you limb from limb if you do," Jared cautioned her.

"He might be doing me a favour, then," she said, stabbing at her salad.

"Didn't take you for a quitter, Red," he said between bites of chicken.

"Red?" she queried, her full lips twitching with amusement.

"Your nickname," he replied shrugging. "Since you have red hair."

"Real original, Jar," Shepard commented dryly, busying herself with her meal.

"Let me know when you think of a better one," he grunted.

"You two love-birds quarrelling already?"

Shepard snapped her head upwards at the sound of an outsider's voice. She looked up to see a Caucasian male with lightly tanned skin and a headful of dark brown curls. He sat himself down beside them, Shepard questioning him with her eyes.

"Red, this is Zade, a friend. Zade, Erika Shepard, or as I like to call her, Red," Jared said, doing the necessary introductions.

"Clever," Zade said with a nod of approval.

"Clever? It's idiotic," Shepard snapped. "And what did you mean 'love-birds'? We are not together!"

Zane was smirking. "You two seem awful close."

"Yeah, we are," Jared joked, throwing an arm around her shoulders until she punched him.

"You two are always meeting in that room on the top floor. And we all know what students sneak up there for." Zade winked at her.

"Yeah, Jared wishes," Shepard cracked, earning a scowl from Jared but a cackle from Zade.

"I like you, Red."

Shepard did a small fake bow, earning another chuckle.

"You two have Reynolds?" he asked them.

"Nah, I had Kahlee. This poor bitch did though," Jared replied, jabbing a thumb in her direction.

"Kahlee? She's the tidy blonde one, right?" Zade asked lecherously.

"Yeah, that's the one," Jared agreed with a foolish grin.

"Boys!" Shepard snorted in disbelief. "I swear you all need a never-ending cold shower until you reach the age of thirty!"

"You jealous, Red?" Jared asked her jeeringly.

"No. You're a bunch of pigs, that's all," she snipped, but there was a queer anger that built at their lechering. She mentally shook herself, pinning it down to the fact that Kahlee was a woman deserving of respect.

"I think you're in there, Jar," Zade said with a sly smile.

Both of the boys sniggered, Shepard resisted the urge the throw a warp in their direction. She pushed herself away from the table, abandoning her half-finished meal and returning to the room on the highest floor, deciding she would for-go Reynolds class. She was worn down and feeling slightly pissed off so she deemed it wise. The Instructor did after all know how to push her buttons. Of course it didn't take Jared long to meet her.

"Red, what's up with you?" he asked, nudging her with his shoulder.

"Just didn't feel like returning to Reynolds," she said absently. But truly she was unsure of the cause, but she felt a slight bit angry and depressed. _Probably just teenage hormones, _she tried to convince herself.

"Can't say I blame you," he chuckled lightly.

"I'm surprised you're missing Sanders class, based on your little comment earlier," Shepard said matter-of-factly.

"Well, you see, there was this girl far cuter that I'd rather hang out with," he said wryly, flashing her a charming smile. "If she'll forgive me for being a pig."

"Hmm," she tapped her chin as though deliberating. "Alright. He is pretty cute himself. Just don't tell him I said so—it'll go to his head, and that is already big enough."

"Your secrets safe with me, Red." He crossed his heart as he said so. "Promise."

They both giggled.

"Well since skipping class was your idea, what do you want to do?" he asked her.

"I dunno. Maybe just talk?" she suggested. There wasn't much else for them to do.

"That's the most exciting thing you can think to do?" he chastised her. "I guess you are just a farm-girl. I shouldn't have set my expectation so high."

"Ow!" she exclaimed.

"From what I hear, you're struggling mastering the warp. Want me to teach you? I don't bite like old Reynolds does."

Shepard thought for a second, remembering the whole reason she had come up here was for a break. But the whole reason for coming to Grissom Academy was to master her biotics.

"Alright. Tell me how, Sensei," she quipped, hopping off the desk.

"Awesome! Now just follow my lead. Close your eyes and empty your mind."

Shepard did as she told her, but it was difficult to keep her mind empty as he kept firing off instructions at her.

"Reach out for your power, sense it out. Once you've got it, focus it all in one hand, draw it in and keep it there, but don't over-step it. Oh, good, your hands glowing! Ok now, once you feel it built up enough power, release it!"

Shepard snapped open her eyes and she released it, aiming it at one of the desks. Instead of warping the desk, she utterly obliterated it with a large violet explosion that nearly barrelled them over.

"Holy shit, Shepard!" Jared exclaimed with a laugh. "That wasn't a warp! That was a goddamn flare!"

"A what?"

"A flare. Big, massive biotic explosion, deals a fuck-ton of damage. Only the more advanced biotic can manage it, and you, the girl who can't even warp, pulls it off!" He threw his head back and laughed. "Red, you are something else."

"I aim to please," she jested.

"That so?" he purred.

"Not that way, idiot," she snapped, slapping him playfully, but he merely laughed and dodged her.

"Can you do it again?" he asked. "Maybe it was a one-off?"

"You doubting me?" she asked him challengingly.

"Hell Red, some of the most accomplished biotics can't do it, but somehow you can? I think you understand why I'm sceptical."

"Fine," Shepard said defiantly. She once more focused her mind on that one point of her body, forcing her power to there are released it. The purple globule of dark matter collided against the wall, leaving a smoking black patch on the metal.

"Damn girl! Holy fuck that is awesome." He stared in amazement at the scorch mark. "You have to show Reynolds. That'll get him off your back."

"You think?" she asked, as she stared down in pleasant surprise at her hand. She still couldn't believe she could conjure up such power.

"Or he might get jealous and bitch even more."

"Sounds more likely," she quipped.

He clapped her on the back. "I'm proud of you, though. I can tell Shepard that you are going to go far in life."

~o0o~

Kahlee caught a passenger ship, named the _Imperium _back to the Citadel. She was here to speak with the banker, Barla Von, who was also an agent for the Shadow Broker, and the only one she knew. Through him, she should be able to get the information she wanted.

The Presidium, where the volus's office was situated, assumed an Earth-like quality what with its lake flowing through the centre, dapple in the blue reflection of the artificial sky above curving around the ring-shape of the Presidium's base structure. Cresting on some edges of the clinical white walkways was patches of grass and trees, little mini parks that some people lounged on with picnics. Unlike the five Ward arms, the Presidium was a haven for people searching for peace, though it was also where most of the major political and financial businesses were set up. The Wards housed market stalls, motels, cheap accommodation and a plethora of nightclubs, bars and more than a few gentlemen clubs. Kahlee had spent much of her youth in several of those clubs, but now heading into her early thirties she found herself struggling to see the appeal in the glaring neon and thudding bass that seemed to dominate the majority of the alleys there. And the denizens of the arms could be just as dangerous as any denizen of Omega. The Presidium, however, had a soothing safety to it, though it was a ruse. If one looked hard enough, they could see corruption was rife here. They were just better at hiding it, making them perhaps more dangerous than the riff-raff lingering in the Wards.

Kahlee herself was about to meet one herself. Barla Von himself posed no physical threat to her, but his employer was a different story. He had information on everyone, no doubt including Sidon. And more than a few people would kill her if they knew. She would have to tread carefully here.

Kahlee let himself into his office, her eyes fixed on the glowing eye spots on his full body enviro-suit that darkened when he blinked. Rounded, short and a banker, it was hard to believe this unassuming alien worked for one of the most dangerous people alive.

"Miss Sanders," he greeted amiably through a loud inhale of air through his suits filters.

She shouldn't be surprised an intel broker knew her identity, but there was that human sensation of surprise and paranoia at having her name uttered by a person she had never met.

"You know who I am," she stated, disguising her shock. "Does that mean you know why I'm here?"

After another audible gulp and expel of air, he spoke. "I only know half of your story. What information do you want to buy?"

"I want everything your employer has on this man." She brought his face up on her omni-tool, angling her wrist so he could see him.

"I see. Send me the picture." She sent it to him, and he studied it on his own omni-tool interface before he closed it.

"An agent will contact you on this frequency in about two to three days. Your account will be charged with four-thousand credits when you receive the information. Do you agree?"

_Four thousand credits?_ She thought in horror, but kept her features arranged to show nothing of her reservations. It wasn't like Kahlee didn't have that amount of creds to her name, but it was a major investment that may lead to nothing fruitful. Though she had went through basic Alliance training, she wasn't as adept to hand-to-hand combat as most soldiers, and if she started a witch hunt for the batarians employer she could land herself in serious trouble, or even worse, endanger her students. Her credentials were a lot easier to turn up than a race that lived outside of Council Space, and therefore their rules and restrictions. And instead of hitting out at her, they could instead strike at the people around her.

Kahlee kept her mask neutral as she thought through her decision several more times before pronouncing her agreement, hoping she wouldn't regret it.

~o0o~

After a week, the new recruits would face a test to determine if they were ready for the next phase of training. If so, they would be placed in specialised classes for vanguards, adepts or sentinels. Shepard had been training hard for the past few days leading up to the physical exam with the help of Jared, and even Reynolds with his take-no-nonsense-drill-sergeant attitude had helped her nail some of the moves she was struggling with. She was trying to learn to charge, but kept slamming herself face-first into the closest hard surface, though now her shockwave continued after the first initial release, and she had made great strides mastering the warp, plus she could throw, pull and use a flare to perfection. Unfortunately, her biotic barrier and singularity were dismal, her barrier being too weak to even keep out a pencil shaving and her singularity just a pretty violet swirling whorl around such a tiny black hole it had no gravitational pull. Though aesthetically pleasing, it would be useless in any situation that would require self-defence. Kahlee had come to watch her sometimes when she wasn't teaching theory, but she seemed tired and distracted, like she was up most night over worrying over something. She hadn't mentioned anything about her trip to the Citadel, but it had been a brief visit; she returned late the same day. Kahlee didn't say why she had went, and Shepard didn't ask. It was not her place, though Kahlee did seem worried about something, and she had grown to care for the older woman. She decided after today's lessons, she would find out.

After Shepard finished Reynolds class she went to Kahlee's office on the floor above, knocking politely on the door to wait for her usual bright voice to extend an invitation. When one didn't come, she let herself in, though it was futile as it was obvious she wasn't there. As expected, her Spartan office was empty except for her large wooden desk, piled on top of which was countless files, stacked papers and datapads all spread in an organised mess across the polished surface. The other sparse pieces of furniture that made up her personal office was two filing cabinets pushed into either corner of the wall behind the desk, and a swivel chair, tucked neatly behind the desk. Shepard found her gaze settling on the message light flashing on her terminal, and was seized by an urge to nose through the messages. She mentally scolded herself, not one for invading the privacy of others. Shepard would hate it if someone else invading hers, so what gave her the right to do it to someone else?

She forced herself to leave her office, despite the burning curiosity she felt, returning to her dorm for a power nap. On her way back to the girl's dorm, she saw one of the security guards, Mendez and hailed him.

"Do you know where Kahlee is?" she asked.

"Had to leave on urgent business," he answered as he passed.

She thanked him, noting with suspicion that it was the same excuse she had used the last time she left. What business so urgent it dragged her from her responsibilities to the school and students Shepard couldn't begin to guess at. All she could do was wait for he to return, and focus on her own work here. After an hour of shut-eye in the empty dorm, she practiced her biotics, seeing if she could summon the strength to life her three-tier bunk she shared.

"Try not to break our bed," a smooth, sultry voice chided her.

Shepard was so shocked she very almost did drop it, where it would surely smash into tiny pieces of shrapnel but Tiala caught it in her own blue light, lowering it gently to the ground.

Tiala was the seventeen year old girl she shared the bunk with, though Shepard hadn't really taken the time to become more acquainted with her. She was undeniably beautiful in an odd way, what with coffee-coloured skin but thick tresses of hair dyed a teal colour. Her eyes were a startling shade of turquoise, no doubt a result of genetic modification. Whenever she turned those eyes on a person, they were enough to make them squirm with the piercing gaze of having such bright irises that were blinding when she flared her biotics up. Like as of now, for instance, but they thankfully dimmed as she deactivated her biotics without breaking eye contact with her. Shepard grudgingly admitted to herself that Tiala threatened her. She was tall, stunning and had a nice, shapely body. Shepard was tall too, but lanky with hardly any breasts to speak of despite her age. Also, Tiala's biotics were much more disciplined than Shepard's, no unsuspected power spikes like she experienced in Kahlee's apartment on the Citadel. She was always perfectly in control, and on top of that she aced biomathematics. The complicated and often lengthy equations and how they factored into the distortion and manipulation of dark energy that they performed was beyond her average grasp of arithmetic. Shepard didn't believe perfect people existed, but the woman in front of her was pretty damn close to it. That was probably why Shepard felt an irrational need to play it cool, come off as aloof or even crack a joke. All witty remarks, or even any intelligent words flew from her mind as the dark-skinned beauty continued her scrutiny of the younger girl in front of her. She jutted out a shapely hip as she folded her arms, a silent question in her infallible stare that both unnerved and angered her, to a degree. Because mingled in with the curiosity was a judgment, essentially pacing her as a superior to Shepard. She still decided to not flip her shit over the small human niche and mumbled a compliment of her biotics.

She shrugged. "No big deal. Just didn't want to sleep on a pile of splinters." Tiala idly looked at her manicured nails, before turning her nearly glowing irises back on her. "Erika, right? We don't really talk much, do we?"

"No, we don't," Shepard said hesitantly, treading carefully into what she considered foreign terrain with Tiala. It was strange she should start small-talking with her after weeks of mutual ignorance.

She extended a hand with marvellously smooth skin, a long, painted nail ending each slender digit. "We should remedy that."

Shepard reluctantly took her hand, wondering what she was really offering other than camaraderie. There seemed to be a momentary predatory flash in her eyes as she returned the handshake.

"I guess I'll see you around," Tiala called over her shoulder, already leaving and ending the awkward exchange.

"Sure," she called back before the door slid, leaving her in the dark, empty room, where she muttered as an aside: "Is there anyone normal in this place?"


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N.: Thank you to cchickki for another review, I'm so glad you're enjoying the fanfiction even when my own confidence in the quality of my writing wanes. Your constant support is extremely helpful and appreciated!**

**And also thanks to those that have added this to their follows and favourites, it keeps me motivated.**

**Constructive criticism is always welcome, as it helps me become a better writer, thus present you with better chapters. **

**I also must apologise for the delay, uni coursework is a bitch!**

Chapter 5

The information Kahlee had requested was sent through to her terminal two days from her trip to the Citadel, and it was thorough. Personal information, sent and received messages, military records, hospital records, everything she needed to know right her at her fingertips. It was somewhat terrifying and exhilarating to own such powerful information.

She started with personal information. His name was Ka'hairal Balak, a respected member of the batarian hegemony. He had no formal home, spending most of his time aboard ships as an active pirate and slaver, but he did own a base on Kar'Shan that he returned to on a regular basis.

Kahlee opened the folder marked "Military history" and saw he had earned many awards and esteem through covert operations and full-out invasions on humanities more isolated colonies. The covert drops consisted of small slave-snatches of no more than a few hundred colonists. Two other operations were violent invasions in which hundreds if thousand had been taken, the planet then nuked from orbit. The colony Demeter was his handy-work, she noted. Five years ago it had been subject to a slaver attack, and sparked galactic-wide panic for humans over the safety of their colonies. Over a third of the populace had been abducted and sold off as slaves. The remainders were left behind on the planet, which was nuked from orbit to total decimation. She scrolled down to read about the second attack, and was stopped short by the colony name typed in bold letters. Mindoir. Her lips silently formed the word as she stopped scrolling afraid to read the contents that would lay bare the full brunt of the attack and what Erika had endured and overcome. Afraid that if all the gory details were displayed they would come to life and play out right there in the relative comfort of her office. Afraid that all the emotional scars Erika had beaten down with plentiful distractions and focusses on the future would break through all the carefully-erected barriers and rise to the surface.

But regardless of the nausea she felt, she opened the file. Balak had used is status in the hegemony to get a pirate fleet twenty strong to invade the colony. The attack was sudden and strong, burning down people's homes, implanting the colonists with control chips they took for obedient slaves. The elderly and sick were killed out-right. Kahlee felt ill to the stomach as she read the reports, her mind hardly unable to process the events. How was it possible for someone to have endured the trauma and to have come through alive? It was true, Shepard hadn't emerged unscathed, but she had managed to compartmentalise and continue with her life. Her resilience was nothing short of amazing.

Kahlee then decided she would find some way to track Balak, and bring him to justice. But she couldn't do it alone, so she made a call.

"Anderson? It's Kahlee. I need your help."

~o0o~

It was the day of the physical exam. Shepard was summoned to the exercise room alone, where she would perform the biotic abilities they ordered. Though she had felt relatively confident, know she was riddled with festering nerves that sparked a nervous adrenaline in her blood. More than once she accidentally flared slightly, alarming the other students waiting in line to take the exam.

"You ok, Red?" Jared asked her, the third time she was surrounded by her corona. The unexpected surge of power caused some people hairs and clothes to ripple like there was a breeze.

"Fine," she snapped back, wrestling for control over her biotics.

"You don't seem fine. You keep flaring. Stop before you hurt yourself or me." He nudged her lightly in the ribs, but she couldn't enjoy the levity. The nausea roiling in her stomach discouraged any laughter.

"Shepard, Erika," Reynolds called her.

With a deep breath, she entered the room, feeling like the four sets of eyes tracking her were peeling away the layers of skin, leaving her naked and vulnerable as she walked into the centre. She stood about seven foot from the practice dummy, awaiting her instructions.

"Now, let us start with the warp."

Shepard managed to use warp, throw, shockwave, flare and pull, as well as a reasonable weave but it ended far too swiftly. Her singularity was dismal, as was her barrier. In the end, it was decided she would be pushed forward for further training in the vanguard field, her offensive fighting style making it an apt choice.

Jared awaited her outside of the room, his easy smile as she approached to greet her forcing her own lips to curve in gratification.

"How did it go?" he asked as they made their way to the cafeteria.

"I'm to train as a vanguard," she replied, rather pleased by the class she achieved.

"Can't say I'm surprised. That flare could rip a man to shreds," Jared said in amazed wonderment.

"You should remember that before you get on my bad side," she joked, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Ha! That's impossible. You like me too much," he returned, with that cocky grin that amused ad irritated her simultaneously.

"You keep telling yourself that," she said in a sing-song voice. "By the way, you never told me what class you're in."

"Adept," he answered with a shrug. "I don't suck as singularities like others."

"You want me to flare your ass?" she challenged, raising her scarred eyebrow, the mark accumulated during her days spent practicing the charge which she still had yet to perfect.

He spread his raised hands in the universal gesture of peace, trying to appear frightened but he couldn't keep the grin off his face, which was infectious.

"So, Red…I've been thinking…"

"A dangerous idea for you," she jibed, but his serious expression made all traces of humour slip from her features. Jared's cocky demeanour which oozed confidence never faltered as it had now, and the blush spreading across his face was an ever rarer sight.

"Jar? What is it?" she asked, anxiety bubbling up her throat to coat her words.

"Want to go out?" he asked in such a rush the words of question slurred into one.

"Come again?" she asked, having not understood his words.

"Will you go out with me?" he repeated, carefully enunciating each word.

The question took her by surprise, leaving her rendered speechless as she processed it, trying to place her own thoughts on the proposition.

"I…don't know," she said slowly, cringing at her own poor choice of words. "I would have to think about it."

He nodded his assent, disappointment flashing in his eyes before he quickly regained his composure, hastily slipping back into his brash persona.

"Don't feel pressured into saying yes or anything." He shrugged, feigning indifference. "Just something you can think on."

He left her there, veering away from the corridor leading to the cafeteria and heading towards the male dorm. Shepard felt a maelstrom of emotions swelling and surging up to the surface as she watched him leave, confusion dominant among them. It was a word that summed up how she felt about him: confused. Her mind couldn't decide one way or another if she was attracted to him.

Shepard steered away from the cafeteria, seeking out the sanctuary of her and Jared's rendezvous point on the top floor. It was thankfully empty, allowing her to distract her mind by lifting a table up into the air, the dust sliding off its surface as it tiled slightly. With a flick of her mind, she made it pivot slowly in place, watching its lazy spin with disinterest. Suddenly, all the lights went out, and she dropped it in surprise, its smash against the hard floor ringing out in the perfect dark.

She remained perfectly still, only her shallow breathing anchoring her in place as she waited for the lights to return, but they didn't. If it was a blackout, the backup generators would have come online, but they didn't.

Shepard flared her biotics, her corona lighting up the room. The door was shut, and with no power she couldn't open it by conventional means.

She took a few paces back, bringing up palm, up past her shoulder and forward, throwing a biotic flare as one might a football. The large, fiery explosion forced the metal door blasting out of its arch and into far wall where it cracked into two, the pair of warped pieces of metal leaning limply. Shepard checked either side of the corridor then left the room once she determined it was empty, deciding to find Kahlee and demand what the hell was going on. As she rounded the corner, bypassing the unpowered elevator in favour of the stairs, she saw the rounded beam of a flashlight.

Shepard quickly dove into a nearby doorway to avoid whomever was ahead, a suspicious voice in her mind firing off a warning that the power loss was a sabotage, and not a technical glitch. She peered out of her hiding spot, seeing the back of the person whom was carrying the flashlight, and saw it was Tiala. Even from the relative distance they stood from one another, she could see the woman's rather broad shoulders shaking from fear.

With a sigh of relief, she stepped out of the doorway, calling her name. She reacted by spinning with a shriek, throwing a warp so fast Shepard had to dive to the floor to avoid.

"Oh shit!" she exclaimed as Shepard picked herself up with annoyance, wincing at her hip which ached from the hard landing. "I thought you were one of them!"

"One of who?" Shepard asked in alarm, her corona dissipating as she approached her, playing the noun game with her despite the urgency she felt.

"I saw a group of armed aliens. They had four eyes," she whispered with a shudder. "I barely got away."

"Batarians?" she asked aloud, feeling like the ground beneath her feet had been snatched away, the gaping hole in place of the floor revealing a glimpse into Mindoir. She shut her eyes as though to block out the sight, but they clung to the inside of her eyelids.

"Shit yeah, that's what they're called. I went down to the basement, and I saw a group of them, they cut the power, disabled all the generators and—hey, are you alright?"

Shepard snapped her eyes open, the sound of crackling fires, screams of pain and terror and the cacophony of gunfire all receding as she returned to the present. She floundered under Tiala's probing gaze.

"I'm fine," she instantly said, feeding the same lie to another person as she had fed herself. "We need to go…" _Where? _she asked herself, knowing full well she wanted to find the batarians, and rip their still-beating hearts from their chests. But when she looked at the dark skinned beauty looking at her with some concern.

"Go find Kahlee," she finished, striding past her to the stairwell.

Tiala watched her for a moment then hurried after her, the flashlight's beam bobbing as she jogged to reach her.

"Apparently they staff are asking all students to assemble in the cafeteria," she said quickly subtly encouraging her to head to the cafeteria on the next floor. "We could probably find her there, guarding the students."

"Go check. I need to do something first. Contact me via omni-tool," Shepard ordered, taking the next flight of stairs downwards. She heard Tiala shout after, but she didn't pursue her. Shepard was glad. She didn't want anyone else to pay for her stupid unquenchable thirst for revenge. She jogged down past the first floor, further down into the bowels of the ship. The door at the end of the stairwell led into a dark corridor lit by red warning light, loose wiring throwing shadows as large as boa constrictors by the red bulbs. Shepard had to duck under several cut wires coughing sparks onto the metal floor pocked with a pattern of holes allowing her to see all the wires and piping underfoot. She jumped as a live wire spat sparks onto the metal ground with a sudden and loud hiss. She was far too jittery, expecting the shadows surging on the peripheral of her vision to change from the ethereal to a tangible force that could reach out and grab her.

Shepard wondered what the hell she was doing down here. Even if the batarians had been here, they would have left by now. And she didn't have the tech skills necessary to restart the generators, but something compelled her to continue to place on foot in front of the other and trek forward to the opening ahead which she assumed would lead to the power generators. When she reached the opening, it led to a poorly-lit room hardly bigger than a closet. The panels on the wall had been wrenched open with force enough for the metal to warp, the two twisted sheets. She peered into the panel boxes and saw half of the wired had been yanked free of their ports. It would take a while to repair, if the power boxed could even be salvaged.

She heard footsteps closing in to her position, and she looked around for a place to hide. She saw a stack of barrels in the corner and squeezed herself behind them, pushing the one to her right so she could peek around it. She could see a figure entering the room, and even in the shallow lighting she could discern it was not a batarian but a human.

"Red," a male voice hissed into the dark. "You in here?"

With a sob of relief, she clambered from out of her shelter, throwing herself into his arms.

"Thank god," she whispered into his chest. "After I heard about the batarians, I thought—"

_I thought history would repeat itself. I thought they would kill everyone I cared about or met. That I would be left alive in cruel mockery at the end, left to carry their memories. _

She couldn't bring herself to admit such weakness aloud, shutting her mouth instead of speaking. Jared didn't call attention to her lapse in silence, but disentangled himself from her arms.

"We need to get to safety. They're barricading the cafeteria, that's where we need to go," he said quickly, taking her hand in his rough, calloused one and dragging her back to the upper floors.

"No," she argued, surprising herself. "I need to find the batarians."

"Are you mad?" he asked, whirling around to face her. "You'll be killed! We have to get to safety, evacuate if possible!"

"I can't, Jar. I need to face this, or the ghosts of the past will keep haunting me," she said, almost able to see their faces through the moisture clogging up her eyes.

He cupped her face, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Not this way."

"I'm sorry," she squirmed from her grasp, using a gentle throw to make him stumble back, buying her enough time to run out into the first floor.

"Dammit, Shepard! Come back!" she heard him yell as he gave pursuit.

Shepard didn't slow down for him but continued after this foolish quest for revenge even though she didn't know if she was heading in the right direction, but she didn't care. She would methodically comb the whole place for them, floor by floor, room by room, until she found them. And she would bring hell down upon them. She didn't care that they may not necessarily be the same aliens that had attacked Mindoir, but they had invaded her second home, threatening her few acquaintances. She would not be as helpless as last time. This time, she was prepared and willing to take a stand.

"Erika, wait the fuck up!" Jared yelled, sprinting to catch up. His longer and stronger legs ate up the distance between them greedily, and he grabbed her arm in a vice-tight grip, tight enough to leave finger-shaped indents on her forearm.

"Jared, get the fuck off me," she hissed in anger. He would not take this away from her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You're going to get yourself killed." He gave her arm a shake to nail the words home.

"I can take care of myself," she snapped, trying to wrench her arm free but failing.

"Like hell you can! There are dozens of them, but one of you, and they're all armed. I know you're a biotic, but they outnumber you, don't forget. They'll gun you down before you could even flare up your implants."

Shepard knew she should be focused on his concern for her, or the sage advice he gave her to avoid conflict, but her an alarm rang out at his choice of words at the start of the sentence.

"Have you seen them?" she asked quietly, her tone subdued as suspicion dragged its cold claws along her nape.

"Yes, earlier in the basement. I saw them cut the power," he said curtly. "What of it? We need to go."

She frowned at how his words seemed to mirror Tiala's from earlier. It was definitely suspicious but she didn't know what she should be suspicious of right now.

"It's nothing. Just let go of my arm, you're hurting me," she snapped sharply.

He released her, still glowering down at her. "If you're going, I guess I can't stop you. Just let me come with you."

"If this goes south, I don't want someone else paying for my own bravado," she said, and it was true. But she didn't want Jared to come with her because she wasn't sure if she could trust him right now.

"Maybe if I come with you, it'll stop this situation from going south. We'd make a pretty good team," he teased, bumping his shoulder against hers.

Shepard had no good excuse for recusing herself from his company, so she waved for him to join her, and they walked down the corridor, using their biotic corona's to light the corridor. Shepard could feel the gentle hum of his biotics melding with hers but she did her best to ignore the sensation and their proximity, their glowing arms sometimes brushing together as they marched down the passageway, peering into the open rooms they went by to check for inhabitants, human or otherwise. Thus far however, it was vacant.

"Threats of death and pain don't have motivate people to move their asses," Jared quipped as they entered one of the senior students room, in which only two people slept in twin beds and had their own TV screens and games consoles. Whoever had inhabited this room had left midway in a card game with their friends, the deck littering the ground among a few emptied beer bottles

Shepard exited the room in silent agreement with Jared, remembering the frenzied rush when the batarians landed after the seconds watching their ships land. There had been a mass exodus to the area they didn't invade, which had been difficult as they had been thorough. It would be even more difficult to evade them in the space of one station instead of a whole colony, but she supposed that why they had ordered the students to gather in the cafeteria; the largest place with the fewest exits and entrances. It was also where the food and water was, in case they needed to hole down for a few days. She severely hoped it wouldn't take that long to liberate the station from them.

"Erika," Jared hissed, pulling her to a stop.

"What?" she whispered, looking back to see his blue eyes widening slightly.

"Can you hear that?" he asked quietly.

She strained her ears but couldn't hear anything except for the subdued crackling sound of their biotics, the slight hum that accompanied the use of her implant and the sound of her own heart thudding loudly with nervous anticipation.

But then she heard it just lingering on the edge of her hearing range, a beep sounding at short intervals.

"What is that?" she asked, trying to discern what it was more clearly, but it was like trying to grab hold of fog; it just kept evading her.

"It's coming from further up. Come on."

This felt like the cliché part in the vid when the protagonists stupidly stroll straight into the lion's den, the part where Shepard yells in annoyance. But now she was about to make the same error. It could be a trap for all she knew.

Yet they continued to push towards it, the beeping noise getting louder, like it was an alarm or…

"Don't go in there! Get back!" Shepard screeched as Jared approached the room.

He stopped in time, breaking the running theme of generic conventions of vids when one person dies for the foolish need to explore a mysterious noise. She felt the tenseness leave her muscles, but she still wanted to put some distance between her and the bomb.

"You think it's a bomb?" he asked, eyes wide as he regarded her.

"I don't doubt it," she responded, wanting nothing more but to move, but she and Jared remained rooted to the spot. "We should leave. It could go off any second."

"Shouldn't we try to disarm it?" he asked, though his tone conveyed his desire to leave as well.

"We can't," she emphasised. Neither of their tech skills were good enough to disarm it. "Let's go." She backtracked returning to the stairs when there was a deafening boom behind her, her feet leaving the ground in tandem with the cacophony. Her spine snapped hard against the wall then slumped down to the ground. She lay there in a limbo between unconsciousness and lucidity. Shepard tried to focus through the ringing in her ears and collection of spots gathering in her vision. She tried to raise her head but it felt too heavy, like someone had scraped out her brain and poured in cement to replace it. She remained lying down, her entire body screaming out in pain at the abuse her body had suffered.

"Erika?" she heard a voice almost drowned out by the loud ringing in her ear shout out her name between coughs. "Erika! Thank god, you're ok!"

A hand seized her arm, hauling her up. Her brain continued to spin, making her stumble unevenly into his arms. She felt the foul stench of burning claw at the insides of her throat, making her cough. Her throat was starting to feel raw.

"Jared," she muttered, seeing a large gash on his forehead pouring blood down his face.

"I'm fine," he assured her, half-supporting half-dragging her away from the corridor choked in the smoke, but she could hardly hear his voice.

"My ears," she murmured in slight panic at the pain and impaired hearing.

"It'll pass," he said in a raised voice so she could hear him.

"You ok?" she asked when he paused to cough and hack, spitting up a glob of grey phlegm.

He nodded, hefting her up the stairs with him. "Just have to get to safety."

He slouched down to the ground, Erika toppling with him as his strength failed him. He braced himself on his hands and knees, falling into a coughing fit.

"Who's down there?" a loud voice boomed, rendered quiet by the loud humming and ringing from her damaged eardrums which had likely been blown clean off by the explosion. But even with her fucked eardrums she could tell it was the voice of a human.

"Mendez!" Jared called through ragged coughs. "We're down here."

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed as he took in the battered and bloodied state of the two students. "What in hell was that explosion?"

"A bomb," Jared explained as Mendez gently helped Erika to her feet. "Batarians left a surprise, right in the senior students lounge."

"Dammit! They must want to kill all the students," he murmured darkly.

Erika shook her head. "But we haven't seen any bodies. They could be taking them to sell them into slavery."

"Most of the students have taken refuge in the cafeteria, so hopefully they haven't taken anyone. Which is where the two of you should be, by the way, not wandering the hallways!"

"We were on our way there," Jared lied smoothly, his eyes momentarily flicking to hers by way of accusation. "Just got caught in the blast on our way past. It must have had a sensory indicator, or may have even just been on a timer and we got unlucky."

Mendez regarded the two of them suspiciously but said nothing more of the matter.

"Can both of you walk?" he asked.

Jared nodded, Shepard repeating the gesture and trying to get to her few of her volition, but her leg muscles gave under her weight. Mendez saved her from falling, looping her arm over his road shoulders to support her weight.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked the blonde haired biotic following them closely.

"I'm not sure. She didn't hit her head, so it's probably just shock coupled with the daze of being caught in an explosion," he explained, both of them acting like she wasn't present. She tried to angrily tell them to stop talking about her like that, but all that escaped from her mouth was a groan as she began battling her darkening vision that was slowly diminishing her other senses with it.

"Not much further, come o—" His words were cut with a loud bang and a wet gurgle and he slumped, dropping Erika as he clutched his shoulder, which she could see was weeping red tears. Her failing eyes swivelled to the left, and there she saw a group of four batarians doubling to eight in her unfocused gaze.

One of them walked to Mendez, levelled the barrel of the heavy pistol and pulled the trigger. His whole body convulsed as the bullet entered his brain, instantly stilling with the killing shot. Jared let out a hoarse cry as the scene unfolded, but Erika was still processing what her addled mind was seeing, as though she was disconnected from the present and watching it play out as an outsider, completely detached to the events and the people. Her eyes were back on the batarians, pistol-whipping Jared over the temple with enough force to render him unconscious, then they finally saw her, and she watched several sets of four eyes narrowing, heard many hissing words spat through sharp teeth.

One of them seized a handful of her red hair, forcing her face up to look towards his. She stared at the lower pair of his eyes as he stared back, face twisting into a grimace of disgust. He hissed angrily at her, thrusting her back down to the ground, a series of strange, guttural words leaving his mouth, his companions hissing as he spoke. One of them aimed his gun at her with an angry shout, but was restrained. After more hissed angry-sounding conflict, a boot was raised and slammed down on her face. Shepard had a second to register slices of pain embedding themselves beneath her skin for a second until all feelings, sights, sounds and smells faded to nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N.: Once again, apologies for the delay but university life, my new boyfriend and a shit-ton of personal problems have been delaying me. ;)**

**A big thanks to cchickki and K0H for their comments on the last chapter, I really appreciate the kind words **

**As always, reviews and constructive criticism is welcome, hope you enjoy the rest of your week! **

Chapter 6

When Shepard emerged through the fog of residual grogginess and a drug haze, she identified her surroundings as the infirmary from the railed bed she lay in and the IV drip pushing liquid medication straight into her bloodstream. She would pull it out, but her mind felt too damn addled to galvanise her apathetic limbs into action. Only a tired groan left her raw throat at the pitiful attempt, but the small noise was enough to bring the attention of the attending nurse, who just looked like an artist's creative mess of peach and chocolate paint on a blank canvas. Her cool hands pressed down on her forehead, but she wasn't sure if it was meant to sooth or check her temperature. She thought she heard her name mentioned amongst the garble of words leaving the strangers mouth, but she couldn't be certain what was said.

Shepard tried to blink the blurriness out of her eyes as he nurse moved to her side. She fiddled with the IV drip, likely adjusting the flow to accommodate her conscious state as the haze receded, lucidity slowly returning in the shape of her sight and hearing regaining their clarity bit by bit.

"Can you hear me?" her professional yet polite voice inquired quietly, but the four words still clawed painfully on the inside of her skull.

"…Yes," she replied, trying to swallow the small amount of saliva left in her mouth to coat her parched throat.

"Are you feeling any pain anywhere?" was the next question as she pressed a button to raise the head of the bed she lay in to prop her up.

"My head, right hip and shoulder. And I'm thirsty," she rasped.

The nurse poured her a cup of water and pressed the plastic cup into her hand, with the promise of some more morphine.

"No. No morphine," she said, after taking a few grateful gulps of the water.

"But—"

"I don't want any drugs. I'd like to remain lucid," she replied. She was awake, but trying to remember why she was here, but the particular memory slipped through her fingers like water.

"At least take some aspirin for the pain," the nurse compromised.

She nodded, relenting, and her pretty pink lips curled upwards in a small smile.

"My name is Charleen, by the way," she said as she fished a bottle of pills from a cabinet on the far wall. "Here."

She pressed two pills into her palm, which she swallowed back with the water, grimacing as one got stuck in her throat.

"I'm—"

"Erika Shepard, I know. I have you on file," she interjected with a sweet smile, fetching a datapad from her bedside cabinet. "Now, you suffered a blow to the head, and there is some severe bruising to your hip from the fall. Your shoulder suffered two hairline fractures so there will be some pain for the next few days and you should rest it as much as you're able. Other than that, you're fine. And you're lucky, compared to some other students."

"Excuse me, but can you tell me what happened?" she asked hesitantly, her memory failure concerning her.

Her pretty face creased with concern. "It may be hard to hear, but a group of batarian pirates attacked the station. We think they may have been looking to capture some of the students; biotics bring more money, I'm told. You were found on the third floor with a head injury. Your friend carried you in here, Jared Pascal if I remember correctly."

It suddenly rushed back to the forefront of her mind, the vivid flashed of the batarians causing her receding headache to spike. "I remember now…but is Jared ok?"

"Fine. He only needed some stitches for a cut to his forehead."

Shepard's panic, laced with guilt spiked slightly as she digesting what had happened. What if she had brought them here? First Mindoir, then the Citadel, and now Grissom Academy. Wherever she went, they seemed to follow her, endangering the people around her.

A sharp pull at the skin on her left arm brought her attention to Charleen as she unhooked her from the IV drip. "I want you to stay here and rest until the drugs have worked their way out of your system, which shouldn't be too long. Then you're free to go. I'll go and inform your friends."

She turned and exited the room on small leather heels that clacked on the hard floor, leaving her alone in the small, private medical room. She slumped back onto her pillows, feeling exhausted and sluggish, but she couldn't stop her shattered mind trying to piece back together the events that had landed her here. She could remember most of it, but trying to dredge up the specifics caused a teeth-grinding migraine to flare up, her brain's way of protecting her from unearthing traumatic memories. The self-preservation instinct was as much a blessing as it was an annoyance.

Soon after Kahlee entered, trailed by a fatigued Jared and a guilty-looking Tiala rubbing her dark arms as one does when they can't get warm. Kahlee smiled warmly, occupying the seat by her bed whilst Jared perched on the mattress, but Tiala hovered on the peripheral looking like she wanted to be elsewhere.

"I'm glad to see you awake, Erika," Kahlee said warmly.

Jared grinned. "I don't know if I agree with that, teach. Red here looks like shit."

"Good to see you too," she retorted, unable to stop a grin of her own spreading across her cracked lips. Even Kahlee grinned.

Tiala offered her a small smile, but said nothing, content to stand back and watch, though her turquoise eyes were guarded, her grin faltering slightly Shepard offered her a greeting. It was strange behaviour, one that set of an alarm in a mind already feasted on by paranoia.

"Couldn't just retreat to safety, could you," Kahlee cajoled her jokingly, drawing her attention. "Had to play the hero."

Shepard shrugged, suddenly ashamed by her actions. Acting on blind anger and prejudice as she had almost cost Shepard her own life, and Jared his. Through the haze of bloodlust, she hadn't seen how selfish and self-centred she was.

"It was stupid, I know," she said eventually, watching her fists instinctively clench at the blanket drawn tightly up to her chest. "I just wanted to save a few lives."

Kahlee shook her head, but more from disbelief than anger or disappointment. "You should leave that to us. It is the duty of the teachers and instructors to protect the students, not the students themselves. Especially first years."

"Have you seen the shit Red can pull off, though? It's damn impressive!" Jared hollered excitedly. He shut his mouth with an audible clack after one withering glare from Kahlee.

"Her recklessness is probably your influence," she retorted with the strict professionalism only a teacher can manage.

"Stop talking about me as if I'm not here," she grunted with annoyance. "And stop talking about me as if I'm an impressionable child; I make my own decisions and I pay for the consequences of them."

Kahlee chortled. "It's nice to know one of you acts your age and not your shoe size."

"I resent that," Jared sniffed, feigning an affronted look.

Kahlee shook her head, but with an amused grin. "Anyway, I need to go. I've got a whole space station to whip back into shape and I need to check up on the rest if the staff and students. None of them have so much as seen a batarian in real life, never mind a whole squadron of slavers."

Shepard nodded in understanding, and she left, leaving the three adolescents alone.

"You doing ok, Red?" Jared asked when the infirmary door hissed shut after Kahlee. "I mean, with Mindoir I thought maybe…you know." He looked away with such raw guilt she couldn't help but reach out and cover his hand with her smaller one.

"I'm ok," she consoled him, offering a timid smile. She would be lying if she has said it had no effect on her, but the attack on the station had shaken everyone up, not just her. It wouldn't do any good for her to spend the days quailing in fear.

"Like you'd admit being scared pissless anyway," he joked.

"I think you were the one pissing yourself in fear," Shepard returned.

"Ha! Well, any sane person would be scared of a group of angry armed batarians."

Sane person, huh? You saying I'm insane?" she challenged him.

"You can use the fucking flare attack but fail at some of the basic shit. Of course you're crazy," he said with a shit-eating grin.

"It's nice to see some things don't change, even after a traumatic event," she jibed, shifting in her hospital cot to alleviate the pressure on her buttocks. "Speaking of crazy, think you can break me out of here?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Hell no. You're the crazy one here, not me. I ain't risking the wrath of Kahlee just so you can leave the infirmary a few hours earlier."

Shepard sighed, having expected the answer despite posing the question anyway. She disliked any sort of medical facilities and the prospect of having to stay in one overnight was like to drive her insane.

"You'll probably be out later this evening," he soothed, lacing his digits through hers. "Just be patient."

"Never been a virtue of mine," she huffed, squeezing his fingers gently in understanding. "At least bring me in a graphic novel or something."

He raised a thick eyebrow at her. "You read graphic novels?"

"Some," she said indifferently.

"I like you more each day, Red," he said happily.

"There it is," she muttered, rolling her eyes at the predictable flirting.

"Jared," Tiala called, surprising both of them with the first word she had uttered. "We should leave. I'm sure Shepard would appreciate some rest."

"Honestly, I'm fine," she protested, but Jared cut her off in agreement with Tiala.

"Get some rest, Red," he said to her, kissing her forehead in a surprisingly tender display.

She tracked the progress out of the room, seeing them exchange a look she couldn't decipher. The two of them had been acting rather suspicious since the station had been invaded, and she decided as soon as she was discharged, she would uncover what they were hiding.

~o0o~

It wasn't until the following morning she was discharged, after a horrendous night of trying to sleep through the beep of machinery and the discomfort of the mattress that was too firm for her liking. Charleen gave her one final check, asked if she had any pain. She didn't, and she was discharged with a firm order to rest up.

When Shepard left the infirmary, she noted with surprise that the station was largely intact, only a few bullet holes in some of the panelling. The same could not be said of its denizens, whom resembled a collection of faces sunken with hollow eyes brought on by sleepless nights. Every little creak of settling bulkheads, every little innocuous spot on their peripheral vision was an armed threat with four eyes ready to loose the bullet carved with their name. Shepard herself sometimes found herself glancing over her shoulder when she walked down an empty corridor to see if she was being shadowed. The instructors tried their best to return a modicum of normalcy to the students to wipe away the anxiety eating away at their intestines like it was battery acid, but it didn't seem to work. They banded together, walking everywhere from their next class to the cafeteria to the bathroom in groups. Against armed adults, a small group of novice biotics wouldn't stand much a chance, but just the comfort of company seemed enough to pacify the lingering physiological trauma. Shepard didn't feel the need to commute in a pack, though when she turned off the light in her private room, a deep paranoia seeped in to her bone, making every negligent shadow of night manifest as a killer, and she found herself drawing up the duvet over her head and lying still for hours, hardly daring to breath. Any sleep she did get was riddled with nightmares soaked in the blood of friends and her deceased family.

Jared offered himself as a soft place to land, and she used his ear more than once to vent all her frustrations and worries, though his more reserved behaviour didn't escape her notice. His jokes were less frequent and weaker, his smile no longer reached his eyes and he looked fatigued, though he reassured her he was fine. He may even believe it himself, but there was something eating away at him. Now, he had become one of the many worries she felt like she should share just to relieve her chest of its weight, but her concerns were dismissed by spoken stoic dismissals.

"Red, I'm fine. I don't get why you keep asking," he grunted once in annoyance.

"Because you're not fine," she hissed, his obstinince driving her up the wall. "There's something keeping you up at night, but you're stonewalling me!"

"Why are you so concerned?" he snapped, muting the vid they were watching to give their argument his full attention.

"Maybe because I care about you, you idiot!" she yelled, the curling ball of anger that had been gathering in her gut finally exploding to spread its poisonous shrapnel throughout her entire body.

Jared gathered himself, rubbing his eyes before reassessing her. "You do?"

"I care about all my friends," she sighed, her own voice returned to its natural volume.

"Right," he said coldly, and it was then she realised what he hoped she would say. "I'm turning in for the night. See you."

"Jared, wait!" she called to his retreating back, heaving herself off the common room couch, but by the time she reached the door he was gone.

_Nice going, Shep, _she groused inwardly, slumping back onto the sofa and groaning aloud. There had been a growing tension between them, and not just because of her constant questioning of his well-being, but because of what she now realised was mutual attraction. Though Shepard was unsure if she wanted to enter that territory with him, it certainly wasn't her intent to flat-out reject him.

"Boys are so complicated," she moaned aloud.

"We are," a voice spoke into her ear, making her jump. She twisted in her seat and there stood Zade with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Long time no see," she said quickly, trying to act casual to compensate for talking aloud to herself in the empty common room. "Do you make a habit of standing in the shadows, eavesdropping on conversations that are none of your concern?"

"Jared is my friend. Ergo, your conversation is my concern," he shrugged, the levity suddenly wiped from his lips. "I like you, Red, but if you've hurt my friend that may change."

She snorted in disbelief at his temerity. "He hasn't even asked me out. We're not an item, and me referring to him as a friend isn't cause for an argument," she said with exasperation.

He rested his hand on the back of the sofa directly adjacent to her face. "Jared is a stand-up guy who has had an unfair share of bad relationships. His heart of gold has been broken more times than I can count, and that is not enough to make one not love again, but to make him extremely sensitive. He's a flirt, sure, but under the self-expressed ego is a guy with kind disposition and a thousand and one insecurities."

"I see," she frowned, suddenly understanding why her words had affected him so.

"You gonna date him, Erika?" he asked casually.

"I don't know," she admitted slowly. Jared was attractive, but it was difficult to see past the self-assured exterior that bordered on the wrong side of the line between irritating and tolerable.

"If you do…" Zade hesitated, his eyes wandering off to the far wall as though he would find he words he wanted to say painted there. "Just be careful and keep in mind what I said if you cross that line."

He exited as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving he with all the confusing and worrying shit stirring about in her brain in a fashion she knew would lead to a restless night tonight. With a sigh, she left and returned to her quarters, deciding the sooner she started her insomniac night, the sooner she would eventually fall asleep and it would end.

~o0o~

The next day, Shepard loitered outside of Jared's room which she had been invited to ten minutes prior, fisting her trembling fingers as she considered what it was she was about to do over in her mind for the third time in the same minute. Shepard promised herself she would find out the secret between Jared and Tiala and she decided to go for the direct approach.

With a sigh, she pushed the open button on the holographic lock on his door which was green to indicate it was unlocked, and entered. Jared brightened at her appearance, pushing himself up from the bed.

"Hey Red," he greeted, clapping her on the shoulder in a gesture meant to both greet her and steer her forward into the room. "I'm glad you're here, I wanted to talk about yesterday, when I just bailed. I need to explain myself."

Shepard wanted to launch straight into the matter at the forefront of her mind, but seeing his worried expression and hearing the sincerity in his words, she suppressed the urge to voice the question bubbling at the back of her throat.

"You probably know by now I like you. As more than a friend, but I'm guessing you don't reciprocate it. And that's fine, I don't blame you and I'm sorry for being an ass about it."

Shepard swallowed back the burn of guilt, trying to search for appropriate words to reply but her mind flashed empty.

"I…thank you. But you don't need to apologise," she stammered.

"We good?" he asked with hope burning bright in his blue eyes.

"We're good," she agreed guiltily when she considered the next topic of conversation.

She arranged her features into a sincere smile as she could manage. "We're good." _But I still suspect you could be involved with the attack on Grissom. Or at least you were involved with something suspicious. _

"Cool. Fancy sticking around for a movie?" he asked, shifting nervously.

"I got studying to do," she lied, not wanting to stick around after she asked him what she wanted to. "But I did want to ask you something."

"Shoot," he assented, looking slightly wary.

She opened her mouth to speak but choked back the words. The man standing in front of her seemed like ne utterly different to the one she saw snooping around the basement. He looked innocent, oblivious to the suspicion she had placed on him. His hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he awaited her query only served to add to the boyish, innocent appearance.

"Nevermind," she lied, backing away. "It's not important, I should get going."

"Oh, if you're sure you don't want to hang out…?" he asked unsurely.

"No, maybe some other time," she excused herself before her courage returned and changed her mind for her.

As quick as she could, she left his room, walking over to her own and locking the door, promptly resting her head against it. She steadily sank to the floor as her legs slowly giving way beneath her. When her backside hit the floor, she rested her head on her folded knees, lingering in a miasma of self-loathing and guilt. Swirling geometric shapes in all shades of every spectrum invaded her eyes until she shifted her position to relieve the pressure on her eyes. The clear vision summoned many unpleasant images she wanted to suppress, bringing with it rising spikes of pain in her optic nerves, traversing along the length of her prefrontal lobe with a dull, resounding ache. She ground her teeth and removed her arms looping around her neck to massage her forehead out of habit more than the belief it would offer any sort of pain relief.

Her omni-tool suddenly flared to life directly adjacent to her right ear with a pinging noise, startling her from her reverie and providing a shock enough to forget her distress. She checked her 'tool of which the interface was flashing with a new message, the sender listed as Jared. She sucked in a deep breath, then pressed it with her trembling index fingers.

**Shep,**

**I just want to know what's up, you've been on/off lately. Please tell me. If it's something I've done or said, I want to make it up to you. I'm here if you need to talk.**

**Jared**

Shepard's eyes lingered on the short message for a good few minutes before her disconnected mind returned to the present, opening up a reply tab before instantly shutting it again. Her mind produced no words that would convey her feelings which weren't even coherent to herself. How could she explain to another the jumbled emotional mess she was?

An irritated sigh escaped her lips as she deactivated her 'tool's interface after saving the message with the intent to reply later. Jared was one of her true friends, and even though recent events cast him in a suspicious light, she couldn't deny she still cared, and she wouldn't let him go unless she was absolutely sure of his guilt.


End file.
